


Age of the Fireflies.

by SleepEatRead



Series: The Odyssey of Time [3]
Category: AU - Fandom, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, Tolkein
Genre: AU, Allies, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Axis - Freeform, Chains, F/M, Falling In Love, Hatred, Love, Marital Abuse, Nazi, Rape, Titles, WW2, War, Xenophobia, domestic abuse, hero - Freeform, savior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 10:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepEatRead/pseuds/SleepEatRead
Summary: A derivative of the title: 'Grave of the Fireflies', from Ghibli Studios. Inspired by the movie ‘Suite Français.’The war is raging, millions are dead, the innocents are raped and defiled, the villages raided and looted... and yet it all seems so far away to Elisabet, in her little village. But that doesn't mean she will never know to suffer...or to love. When it seems like the whole world is desolate, there will always be a silver lining.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another world, another time, another people.

I was not born during the Great War. My mother told me that even in that time when everything was scarce and money was a laughable currency, she would rather relive that time. Despite the war being such a devastating war for our beloved land, Germany, she told me she would rather live in that time because it was infinitely better than the time we live in now.

“Those times were difficult,” she would tell me, giving me an indulgent smile, “We thought they were...what I wouldn’t give to relive those days, with all my little angels.” She was referring to my brothers and I. I was the youngest sister of four brothers, all of whom had left for war.

But still, they all persevered, I think. Some got more affected than the others. My family was already poor when the Great War had begun. But my father's various excellences and advancements in the army took the surname Wolfgang into a whole new class of society that had treated my parents well. 

In the world of economic and socialist exploitation, a rising tide raises all the well-built boats, and those who have well-built boats are the ones who have the money. We were the ones who had a well-built boat. Not a cruise, in that sense, but enough to get us through economic and socialist depression we were in. 

But the effects of the depression in Germany affected everyone just the same. The perceived injustice (and the literal one) of the Treaty of Versailles made the nation bitter and resentful of the West. I felt it most bitterly too because for a while, I had to watch my poorer friends suffer and we had to suffer as well. Our houses were rich but the supper on our table was not. 

So when Füher Adolf Hitler had come along, when I was just eleven years old, with his suave charm, his rich ideas, and his politically advanced mindset, everyone loved him, the Ludos were no different. His promise to restore pride in Germany, restore value in our money, and give bread to every child won him some 99.9% of the vote. At least, that was what my father proudly announced. The opposing party stood no chance. It was more of a half-assed attempt to give the people a semblance at democracy.

I was eleven years old at the time. When he was elected, I remember, my brothers and I, we would salute in the name of the Füher when we enter through any threshold, even the washrooms. It was all so exciting. The promise of a better life, of full bellies (a phenomenon for me), and just general..._ fun _ excited me. I would defend his name in every way possible, even when I didn’t need to. The adults would give me indulgent smiles, commenting on how delightfully I was raised. I remember I always tied a red scarf around my hand with a poorly drawn eagle on it that would make passing SS soldiers smile at me.

“Heil Hitler,” I would yelp, my arm excitedly shooting up to a group of soldiers. They would nod their heads at me, in cool arrogance. But who could blame them, in their sharp uniforms and clean cuts?

When I was fifteen, my belly was always full and it began to show as I gained some extra weight, growing slightly taller. My mother commissioned for me a few tasteful day-dresses and insisted I learn how to groom myself, seeing as I am a budding woman now. But my figure was not fit for such dresses. I was too..._ plump _. But my ankles and wrists were small so it made the appearance of my large bosom less severe and my large bum less huge. Shapeliness was in fashion and my bosoms (which had been growing since I was eleven, I was the only girl in my class who wore a brassiere) were ungainly for a girl my age. But I suppose my face was pleasing enough. I had tanned skin (my mother is Italian, my father met her when he was on one of his military campaigns) and wide, brown eyes. My beauty was unconventional but many girls looked like me. But my features were small and button, but darkly coloured. I felt it would have been infinitely better if I was blonde and blue-eyed, like the prettiest girl in my class, Freida Schiller. 

But alas, I was not. If wishes were granted, I would be perfect. I would be taller than I am now, I would be much paler, my eyes would be blue, my hair would be the colour of wheat, and my assets would be smaller. My mother insisted I was beautiful but what self-respecting mother wouldn’t say that to her only daughter? Still, I appreciated it.

The day I gained self-awareness of my body was the day I bled. I was going on sixteen at the time. My period hadn’t ever come when I was eleven, or twelve, or thirteen. It had come late, but it was the only assurance I had that I was not barren. I was simply, in the more complex and hidden aspects of my body, a little late. That had made my mother so incredibly happy. 

I was happy too.

Until my father had given me the news. When he had known that I had bled, he had made no mention of it for several days. I wasn’t aware that he knew. But I felt like a whole new woman now. I walked around with a sway to my hips, I began noticing some looks I received, I began putting on red lipstick, much to my father’s chagrin. 

At first, he had begun inviting the village assemblyman; Jan Heydrich. At first, I thought it was another one of my father’s ambitions. I was not so naive as to not see that my father was ambitious and that all the food that feeds me comes from his advancements, his connections, and his work with the higher powers that he does. 

I was grateful for it, but at the same time, I was ashamed because I was also aware of the envy that I sometimes faced. Just because we were living better did not mean that other people were. It always made things a little bit more awkward with everyone else.

But these issues always seemed insignificant when I had to dress for dinner nearly every night. I wasn’t sure at what point I started being seated next to Herr Jan Heydrich. But he was an enjoyable fellow to speak to. He was exactly forty-eight years old. I was aware that he previously had two wives from the gossip in the village. He was tall and built like a bull, his stance proud and aggressive, forever seeking the thrill of a war he could no longer participate in because of his injured knee. His mustache was like salt and pepper and the hair on the sides of his head was completely white. But the rest of him was filled with virility. He was faintly handsome, I suppose. 

It was a good thing that I thought so because as I previously stated, my father had some news for me:

I was to be wedded to assemblyman Herr Jan Heydrich, the most powerful man in this little village and a prominent member of the Nazi party. 

It was simultaneously the most ambitious and patriotic match ever made. My brothers and I were known to glorify Adolf Hitler. My father was ambitious. My future husband was patriotic and ambitious. What could such a powerful match like this do other than to restore pride and faith in our small little village? It served everyone’s self-interest.

At least, that was what I told myself. I lied to myself, and I convinced myself that this would be a happy. A beneficial match in which I would be doing my duty as an obedient daughter. I was so convinced that we would be in love. What girl wouldn’t? I was to marry young, have children young, and live a comfortable life. What more could I ask for?

“I do,” I said with no regrets when I stood at the altar, standing before my now-husband, in my wedding dress, smiling widely and feeling and incredible elation: I was the first girl of my year to get married!

But my one misstep: I did not foresee any regrets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world closes in.

In my marriage, I quickly realized that public image is extremely important. With that said, I had taken to daily charitable activities. I organized many community events with the local women, who were all so kind and friendly. I often invited my girlfriends to join me because why not? My social life had not suddenly stopped now that I was married to a rich and powerful Nazi-Party assemblyman. 

Although Jan often insisted that I try to elevate myself in any way I could in order to distinguish myself as a woman of her proper station; namely his wife. So I had taken to always wearing my best dresses, always curling my hair, always wearing lipstick. I had taken every precaution and measure to make myself look pretty, presentable, and rich.

However, despite the many community events and whatnot, there was always a shortage of everything. Silk stockings were non-existent now but I always wore them because that is the only thing that could actually distinguish me from all the rest of the women who painted lines on their legs to make it appear as though they were wearing stockings. But there was always news of the Füher’s victory. When I asked Jan, he curtly repeated the same thing on the news. There was no use in questioning it if my husband said it was so.

Since we lived far off from the cities, in the countryside, we rarely got bombed, though we heard of the other cities getting bombed. The war just seemed so distant, like a dream, while we were in the countryside. I always wake up with the sun and I always fall asleep as it sets. The war just seemed so foolish and distant. Why was the whole world against us anyways? Germany was great, perhaps it had, once again, gathered the envy of all the other foolish, western nations. The only decent ones were the Japanese, our allies. But there was always propaganda against them, as a lesser race. Who was I to argue?

The war will end soon, they insisted. 

Soon never came.

By then, we had spent an entire year in our marriage. 

My regrets began piling. My husband was always busy and out of town. When he came, he always laid with me. Most of the times he was rough so I didn’t enjoy staying with him in the same room and instead, preferred to take up in my own room. He was always polite to me and cool. He wasn’t always very talkative, despite his charisma. I always felt very chatty, foolish, and ditzy around him and who wouldn’t? I was desperately trying to please him, as a way of compensating for my failure to do my most important duty; to conceive. The burden of expectancy weighed heavy on my mind because now I could see all the women speaking about it behind my back. I could hear all the nasty rumours of my infertility and the shame  _ crushed  _ me. My father had arranged my marriage to Jan on the terms that I would eventually provide an heir. That was why he married me after finding out I had just bled for the first time.

Jan offered no comfort; he hinted at this issue adamantly. How could I conceive if I was barren? Would he divorce me? If he did, I would die of shame. I would rather be bombed than to be divorced. My mother always visited me, coming up with new recipes and medicinal herbs to conceive. But none of them seemed to be working. Bringing a midwife was too risky, then everyone would know and to go to the doctor was out of the question. How could I let a man touch me and examine me? Even if it was only for medicinal and health purposes, I could never. It felt sacrilegious.

But I was getting desperate for alternatives. 

However, the thoughts of conception and other worries began to fly past my mind as the world slowly became closer to us, in our distant dream. The tidings turned ambiguous to us in the wireless radio. The propaganda was stronger than ever but none of the soldiers returned. I heard no word from my brothers for many months now. We had only just received tidings of Jonas that he was missing in action. That had devastated my parents and I.

But then on a bleak spring’s morning, the alarms sounded. The villagers ran to the shelters. It was chaotic because this was the first time anything like that ever happened to us. I had been escorting children outside of the school at that time because I was the arithmetics teacher there. 

“Come now!” I called, my heart beating frantically as I spied three gray dots in the distance. “Quickly!”

The children were clumsy and stumbled on themselves, but eventually, all thirteen children had gone inside the shelter gates. I stepped in and just as I was about to close the door, a large plane with a terrible sound flew over me, the sheer power of it knocking me away from the door and shutting the doors closed. I fell on my bum, in the dark, the only sound now was our ragged breaths and the roars of planes above us.

*~*~*

When the alarms stopped sounding everyone tentatively peeked outside. I could see our gray little streets. But they were not grey any longer. Little papers littered the streets, flat, white and with writing on them.

When I had gone to grab one, I felt the whole world crashing down on me.

It was written in English and in German. I couldn’t read English properly. But the German I could read perfectly well. 

_ GERMANY HAS SURRENDERED. BOND IN VICTORY. _

This was written over the top of three men, one holding an American flag, the other holding a British flag, and the last holding the Soviet flag. My heart dropped. I had heard the news of the Soviets. They were the ruthless savages. I heard all the stories of how they killed their conquests. I also read about the savage Americans who raped German women and soiled them with their seed. I read about the British, with their teacups and their torture methods, how they smile in the face of sadism. All the stories I shouldn’t know about where all the stories my husband tells me, to defend the Nazi ideology.

How could we have lost? How could Germany have lost to these evil trolls? We were so powerful and our winning streak was unprecedented! It was like someone had dropped a bucket of ice over me. Was what I heard on the news on our expensive radio all just lies? It couldn’t be. How could we be kept in the dark like this? 

No one spoke to anyone that day. Everyone simply shuffled, like brain-dead creatures, back to their business, in a daze. Everyone was like me, I realized, startled. We had all been fooled into believing in victory and now the price of ignorance tasted bitter in my mouth. Did my husband know about this? Did Jan know? 

I felt anger and betrayal boiling in me. Why did he not give me a hint of the potential losses that we may face? The gruelling defeat and the impending occupation of those allied Westerners? After those six long, arduous years of yearning for victory and hoping for better days...all this was for nothing. It would be like the Treaty of Versailles all over. The fact that Germany has been defeated in two world-engaging wars was more humiliation than I could bear for my country.

We lived like a dream for so long. The war was always so distant from us...perhaps it would continue to be so. Hopefully.

*~*~*

My prayers did nothing.

The next day,  _ immediately _ , large tanks and war machines rolled into the streets of our quiet, sleepy little village. The American flag was propped up high and proud on every single machine that noisily and shakily rolled in. The soldiers, tall and white, walked. Their faces ranging from blankness to weariness to straight fierceness, even with irrepressible arrogance. I recoiled when one of them looked at me, his lips tugging upwards in a feral smirk at me.

My body began to tremble in fear. The thought of Allied occupation and German humiliation no longer occupied my thoughts. The soldiers did. What would they do to us, us German women? We were women of the country that had killed their comrades, brothers, and countrymen. We were the enemy that has been humbled and humiliated by them as retaliation. What more could they do to us to prove that they did not accept our surrender?

I quickly turned around and discreetly ran away. I needed to go to my house. I needed to make sure that they didn’t see me. I glanced behind me and saw several other women doing she same. The few who remained were foolish indeed. I needed to get away from here. Where is Jan?

For days after that, I stayed locked up in my room, barely coming out. Jan never came home and always, the soldiers stood outside after breaking camp. They were curious fellows. They always walked about shirtless, they always drank from their tin cups and they always made a loud ruckus but no one ever stepped through the gates. I never dared to go outside. Who knows what provokes these men? I did not want to find out. I seldom lit the lights in my house and I was determined to last inside. My maids never returned to the estate and I did not want them too. I did not want to open my gates and I did not want to risk their danger for the sake of a work day. I heard all the stories. I heard them all. Never on the news but through the telephone. My only source of connection to the outside world. 

After five days, Jan finally came back. He was in a rich entourage, a large, army car with the American flag on it. He was no longer wearing his Nazi colours proudly but instead, he was dressed in a suit. He looked like a businessman instead of a patriotic politician. He was seated in the backseat of the open-roof vehicle and the people driving were the...American? Definitely not German. What was Jan doing? Did he know how hypocritical and embarrassing he looked? A part of me was satisfied that I wasn't the only embarrassment to the name Heydrich.

But that satisfaction didn't take long because soon, Jan himself opened the gates and I choked back a scream, expected an influx of the enemy to pour in and tear down the manor doors. To come and find me in my room and torment me. 

But that didn't happen. They stayed outside. But only that car drove in. When it became clear, in some way, that I was expected to play a diplomat, I turned around and began looking for my best dress and my tightest, ugliest underpants.

The dress itself was a demure brown colour. It didn't suggest any affinity. I purposely did not wear red, yellow, or greens. My lipstick itself was more of a carmine colour. I took my hair away from its curling rags I decided to forgo my silk stockings. Instead, I painted lines on my legs like the other women did and like I did before I got married. I put my hair up in an elegant coiffure and took one last look in the mirror before slipping on my light brown leather brogue heels. I put on my pearl necklace and shined my wedding ring. I would not shame my husband especially since it was clear he did that for himself. But I also would not do anything to tempt them.

Pulling the ugliest shawl I own over my shoulders, I walked out of the room.

*~*~*

It took me a while to find the courage to speed up my pace so that I may arrive at my destination, the guest salon. I assumed that this is where they would be. 

When I did find them, they were speaking to each other in their strange American language, before the door.

“Jan?” I echoed tentatively and Jan turned around, his face pinched into a sour expression.

“Bring some tea, Elisabet,” he said, not greeting me. I nodded demurely, embarrassed but grateful to be away from those Americans.

*~*~*

The only tea I had was crushed mint because that is the only thing that would grow in my garden. When I had brought it back upstairs, the men were seated at the table, pouring over several documents. I never knew that Jan could speak English. But I suppose he spoke it well enough. I wouldn’t know.

“Ahh, Frau Heydreich,” I looked up, alarmed. The deep voice that spoke my name came from a tall american, sporting a grey head but a black mustache. His eyes were light brown but they were hard, even though his smile was not. I swallowed, looking at him and opening my mouth to say something, anything to acknowledge him. Nothing came out.

“I hope you don't mind us placing Lieutenant General Laurefindel in one of your guest rooms for the time being,” the man spoke in perfect if slightly cracked german. I stared at him blankly, the question not comprehending to my mind. I glanced at Jan and saw him glaring at me. He subtly shook his head and I did the same, looking back at the man.

“N-no,” I squeaked, backing away. 

I didn’t want a stupid american in my house. I didn’t want that when all my friends from the village were suffering for the defeat of our country. I didn’t want that when I barely have enough food to feed myself and Jan. 

“Good,” he bared his teeth at me in a smile, “Pleasure to meet you!” 

It was a dismissal if I ever heard one. But I didn’t need to be told again before I politely excused myself, sending one last longing look to my china tea cups. I would rather give them tin cups if I was being completely honest. 

But us Germans are now defeated and these invaders are now in charge. I understood the concept of power and I understood when power is lost. All I could do now is quietly fester my hatred and do everything I can to oppose them, silently of course. 

Or maybe not...I was too much of a coward. I had much to lose and I know that as a woman, I was not the most progressive, nor was I the most strong willed, nor was I a woman of strong character. I was meek, docile, and malleable. I was not a strong, feisty heroine of an action-romance novel. I was the barren wife of an assemblyman. An arithmetic teacher. Just another woman. I was not like Freida or Gilda from my year, who would sooner spit in that General’s face rather than accept that American in their home, with their outrageously gorgeous and aryanic faces and bodies. 

I was just me, Elizabeth Wolfgang Heydrich. A small, weak woman, in a world of powerful men. 

I was not ashamed to admit the truth, but I was terrified to live it.

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The impending 'geust' arrives.

That night, Jan beat me violently. 

He had stormed into my room, shouting at me at the loudest pitch of his voice, his pupils like little dots in a sea of hazel. What he was screaming about, I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his terrifying rage. His face was red, there were dark circles under his eyes and the veins on his neck bulged. He had undone his belt and had begun whipping me until I could no longer scream. He had whipped out his belt so fast and with a whistling slice through the air, had felled it on my flesh and he didn’t relent. I couldn’t move away, anywhere I would try to crawl to, he would find a more painful spot to whip, even harder than last time. I was screaming and begging for help and the small voice in the back of my mind told me that there was no one in the house and the soldiers outside wouldn’t hear me and would certainly not bother to help me, a common Kraut. I still wasn’t sure why he had beat me so much. But he left me there on the washroom floor, curled up in a ball, confused, in pain, unable to move from how paralyzing and excruciating the pain was. 

After a few hours of lying pathetically on the washroom floor, certain he was not going to come back, I shuffled to my feet. I was too scared to make a sound, to take a bath, to heal myself. I didn’t know what would happen. The fact that he had taken out his unwarranted anger, shame, and humiliation out on me finally made him unpredictable. Sure sometimes, here and there, he would give me the palm of his hand as a reprimand but I always figured that was normal because my father sometimes did it to my mother. I was told it was the right of a husband to his wife. It was all I ever knew. But I was too blind to see it then and I could never have seen it then. Jan was so good at hiding his true faces to the public. But I should have known he was crazy enough to whip me until even his own belt cracked apart, tearing the leather with it. I was too scared to look at my body in the mirror. I could already feel my skin had torn at a few places. So instead, I put on my softest nightgown and took two painkillers.

Tomorrow would be better, I promised myself.

But my tears soaked my blanket and I couldn’t sleep that night.

*~*~*

The next day, Jan barely looked at me or acknowledged me. I didn’t know how to feel, where did I stand with him now? Why was I surprised that I was so hurt? I should have known. All the times he treated me with cool dissociation should have hinted at his dislike for me. 

So instead, I opted to stay one step behind him, in a demure brown dress, my coat, my heels, and red lipstick, to greet the American Lieutenant General who was to come. I had purposely worn a brown, long-sleeved dress and I had worn my translucent stockings. The bruises and welts from my whipping last night looked absolutely terrible, I couldn’t showcase my scars like that. How would that benefit me? In any way expect to warrant me another beating? At least this beating would have more reason than the last.

When the Lieutenant did arrive, he arrived at exactly 9:00 in the morning, not a second before or a second after. He rode in on a similar car as the one I saw yesterday. When he got out of the car, I took a step back in alarm. He must have been the tallest man that I have ever seen, taller than the tallest man by an entire head at the very least, standing at 21 hands, easily. His height could not have been an advantage in such a war. But clearly he had no problems with it, seeing as he himself had advanced through the ranks to become a Lieutenant General, judging by the man stars and affiliations decorating his uniform.

But when he took off his sunglasses, I was awestruck by his beauty. His eyes were teal-coloured and vividly so, almost glowing. His skin was tanned and his hair was like twenty-four karat gold, neatly shaved on the sides and glinting in the sun. When he took off his cap and tucked it under his arm, I realized that the top was not clean-shaven as well, but instead was longer and waved slightly, a single lock falling over his forehead. His features were high and sharp, proud and strong. He was clean-shaven. Everything from the way he tucked his cap underneath his arm to the way he walked up those steps to greet us was extremely masculine, elegant, and well-calculated. His thin lips didn’t smile and his strong jaw was set. 

“Herr Heydrich, Frau Heydrich,” he greeted them. His voice was strong and deep. It as the voice that commanded a thousand men, no less. It didn’t sound hoarse, surprisingly. But his ears were strange, I realized off-handedly. His ears were like long leaves, the deformity repulsed me. Everything about that man, even his beauty, repulsed me. He was the man that represented everything that I have ever known to hate and fear. “Thank you for hosting me in your abode.”

His German was perfectly understandable, I thought decisively while thinking that I don’t think that we had any other choice but to accept him in our abode.

He stuck out his hand to shake Jan’s hand, who took it and shook it. Then he stuck his hand for me to shake, I hesitantly handed it to him. His hand was large, with long, slender fingers, veins coiling his fingers. These hands were made more for a pianist than for a killer. His nails were perfectly cut and filed. His hands engulfed mine. He briefly bowed to both of us and Jan walked past me, inviting the man into the house. I waited patiently for the men to walk past me but realized that the man, the Lieutenant General Laurefindel (I think), was waiting for me to walk past him. I walked past him, only briefly glancing back to find him looking straight ahead.

“Excuse me, Herr Heydrich,” the Lieutenant General called when Jan showed no signs of stopping, I hesitantly stopped and looked back at him. What was the issue now?

“What? What is it?” Jan said impatiently, barely looking at the American. 

“I must ask you for the keys of the room, office, and these clock houses, please,” the man said patiently. I looked back at Jan and he looked at me, nodding his head. It was the only acknowledgement he had given me this entire day. I slowly nodded and took out the key set that I had prepared beforehand the night before, before my unwarranted whipping. “And a copy of your master key.”

“I don’t have the Clock house keys,” I said hesitantly, walking forward and handing him the keys in his palm. I pointed at one key, “That is for your room, the other is for your office. We don’t really close any rooms...but here is the master key. As for our clock houses…” My sore throat was embarrassingly obvious and it actually hurt to speak. I dimly remembered my whipping, and how now, moving felt like pouring acid onto my skin. I walked around him, putting as much distance between us as possible. I walked to the tower clock we had, opening the door with ease. “Well, we never lock them, you see.”

I stepped back as he strode forward, taking only two large steps, his elbow almost brushing me had it not been for me stepping away quickly. I didn’t want him to ever get within my personal space and I hoped he realized that. 

“Good, thank you.” He said curtly, lifting his hand and doing something to the clock--he was changing the time. I gaped at the man, stepping back in shock at his audacity.

“What?” Jan spluttered, seeming to be just as confused as I was.

“From this moment on, we will be living one hour ahead, a standard for all occupation settlements,” he informed us, taking a leaflet out of his breast pocket and handed it to me.

“For all those who may not be aware of the new rules and regulations set, this will explain everything in German, English, and French,” He told us curtly. I stared at the leaflet in my hands. It was by no means thin. But it was definitely pocket-sized. 

I didn’t look at him as he did that tapping thing with his feet and marched away. 

There was an extra paper added here on his own; clearly in his own handwriting. It was neat cursive, the long-hand type.

_ Expectations: _

  * _Breakfast at 7 00 hours- Allied time; 3 boiled egg, 3 toast, 2 4-sliced orange, 1 large glass of milk. _
  * _Lunch at 11 00 hours- Allied time; Chef’s specialty. Considerable proportions._
  * _Dinner at 18 00 hours- Allied time; Sauteed legumes, rice or potatoes, meat, 1 4-sliced orange. Considerable proportions._
  * _Note; Supplies will be provided for the purpose above._
  * _Home curfew at 20 00 hours- Allied time. Attendance will be taken at 20 30 hours- Allied time._
  * _All rooms in the house are to be kept unlocked. Accommodation can be discussed._
  * _Respect the discussed rules and regulations in the leaflet attached. Non-negotiable and applicable to all citizens regardless of standing or caste._
  * _Failure to abide will result in consequences accordingly._

_ Signed: Lieutenant General Glorfindel Laurefindel. _

I reread the rules, before handing the paper to Jan, who rolled his eyes and shoved the letter to my chest. Pain bloomed where he shoved me and I stumbled back in alarm, fearful that he would hurt me again. But he didn’t. Instead, he stormed back upstairs to his room.

I turned back to the living room, surprised to find the Lieutenant General staring at the cutlery. Did he see Jan shove me? If so, I would rather not look at anyone right now. I turned around and walked downstairs to the kitchen. 

I would have to cook all that. We were short on staff and money. I was the one who always cleaned the house ever since the last of our maids quit for compassionate reasons. I wasn’t a terrible cook, I suppose.

I began planning out the recipes. I wanted to make sure there would be nothing worth the criticism. Would he eat the same thing every day in the exact same way? If so, this man was terribly tasteless.

I looked at the time on my wristwatch and realized I only had three hours left to properly cook lunch. I wasn’t sure what this man wanted for lunch. Chef’s specialty meant that I can decide for that meal. What does he like? Most importantly, would Jan like it?

I looked through our cupboards and my face fell when I realized that we only had only a few supplies in our cupboard. Perhaps I could make something...my garden then. I am sure I could find a few legumes in there.

I walked upstairs to the back yard where I did most of my farming. Thankfully, some lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers had decided to show in our little greenhouse. I plucked a few and set them in my basket, walking back. I already figured out what I would do for the salad and dressing. Any vinaigrette would be sure to please any westerner. I took out the jar of saved vinaigrette from the cooler box.

I washed my vegetables thoroughly, leaving the rice to soak. I had already previously picked the rice of any and all little rocks. After, I cut up my vegetables and put them in a bowl. After I was done with the rice, I began with the meat sauce and the roast pork.

Everything should be fine, I decided, after I neatly arranged the food in a neatly pleasing manner. I would have to change now. I probably smelled like food and I should have changed my dress beforehand but at the time, I only had three hours. I would have to wash my other dresses later. And my underwear. But where would I let them dry? He did say that accommodations can be discussed. But I didn’t want to speak to that man. Jan had literally lost all power over his own house. His wife was slaving for the enemy. How much more shameful could all of this be? Not to mention, the prominent lack of child made it all the more miserable. 

I put the food on a cart and then put it in the dumbwaiter before going upstairs. I turned the wheel and the dumbwaiter lifted through the dinner preparation room. I set up the table, set the food and went upstairs to finally change. There were only a few minutes left to twelve by allied time. I had changed my wristwatch to Allied time because I didn’t want to live in confusion. Only when I am a bit more settled, I suppose I could start reliving by German time. 

When I entered my room, I closed the door, careful not to lock it. The lock was loud and I had the strange paranoia that the American would hear it and come down at me with his Allied Hell and penalties. I started to undo my dress. I heard the door lock behind me and I whirled around, lifting the dress back up to my chest, curling forward in an effort to hide my body. “What--?”

But it was only Jan. That wasn’t any better, I realized when I saw his angry face. He closed the door behind him and locked it. 

“Jan, please,” I whimpered thoughtlessly, stepping away from him but he caught me by the arm, squeezing me tightly.

“I was waiting for my lunch!” He snarled at me.

“I was cooking it,” I whimpered, trying to pull away.

“I will be damned if I am living by those fuckers’ time,” he snarled raising his open palm and striking me across the face. Pain seared across my face before I could register the shock. I almost screamed but his hand covered my mouth.

“I swear if you take one more step backwards or scream, I will whip you again. I have many belts,” his warning was low in my ear. His threat confirmed the suspicions that I didn’t want to entertain. I nodded fearfully, not looking at his face, in fear that if I did, I would see all the hatred he kept hidden. I hated this Jan. I didn’t want him to do this to me. My body was still incredibly sore from his whipping last night. 

“Get on the bed, face down,” he snarled and I slowly complied. I knew what was coming. He would take me from behind. That always hurt me more than from the front. 

“You dry bitch,” he muttered under his breath, shoving me on the bed and spreading my legs.

*~*~*

I didn’t come down for lunch. I was still trying to recover. It had hurt even more than all the previous times. I didn’t relax properly. But now it felt terrible to entertain the thought of walking. Jan allowed me the small dignity of staying in my room. How could I walk downstairs and look at that American? How much unpleasantness in the day could I handle?

So instead, I opted to take an overdue bath. 

I was starving but I suppose I could go to sneak a little snack before dinner. I couldn't imagine coming down now, like this.

Once I was clean and refreshed, I examined my body in the mirror. My back was a mural of whip bruises. There were hand marks on my arms and a bite mark on my shoulder from where he bit into me. I noticed that he made sure to keep from touching my face too severely even though it was red where he slapped me. I rubbed away my tears. I spent enough tears in the bath and under Jan’s hands. I didn’t need to cry anymore.

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of events lead up to life-changing consequences to Elisabet.

For several weeks, it became routine, for the most part. Sometimes Jan would give me a terrible beating, for one reason or the other; anything from a missing spoon to not enough meat in his soup. Sometimes, he would come back from his work, stressed and humiliated and he would beat me until either I passed out or he hurt his hand. I never became immune to the pain. It always got worse and I had no coping mechanism but crying, which often gave me long-lasting migraines. My confusion made me unable to handle Jan. I did not deserve this.  _ I know I didn’t. _ But still, I held on to the last strings of hope that he would finally see that I am not at fault here. He would apologize, say he is sorry. He would learn to love me. It was my greatest wish. I couldn’t imagine living my entire life in such terrible abuse. Sometimes, at night, when it was eerily quiet, I would get on my knees next to my bed and pray, fiercely, that some freak accident would take me before I could ever spend the rest of my life in such poor conditions. Secretly, I prayed that I never conceived. No child could ever deserved to live in such abuse.

My complications didn't stop there, however. The invaders seemed to be settling in quite well. Far too comfortable and they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. The American in our house was often times outside of the house, only showing his face for dinner time. I carefully avoided looking at him. I didn’t know what was happening around me. Sometimes, I was too weak to lift up my spoon for the soup so I would serve us, small portions for myself, pretend I am eating them and when everyone has departed to their business, I would finally make myself a snack or I would sleep long and hard before Jan decided to grace me with his presence. Making a physical effort to maintain myself became such a despicable chore.

Then, I would go do my community service, when I was actually able to. I would go to the church and I would help the ladies there do the menial chores. Knitting brought me comfort. It helped me think. No one interrupted my silence, seeming to sense my disillusionment and my unhappiness. Not many families had soldiers stationed at their houses. But we had a big estate, enough to fit one high-ranking official and some military storage that I didn’t have the keys to.

“That American in my house,” one of our senior ladies, Freida, sniffed disdainfully, “He is such a disruptive presence. He is like a shadow that upturns everything! He always insists on having everything his way. I always wash his stupid uniforms!”

The American at our house was rather undisruptive, despite being a general inconvenience by simply existing. Aside from his time-change, there wasn’t much that he did that I actually found disruptive, besides his general existence. He didn’t have a lot of laundry to clean. He washed his own socks, bedsheets, and underwear. Sometimes he gave me his uniforms to wash and clean. In ‘payment’ for my service, he would give me a bar of chocolate. I had seven of those sitting in my room, doing nothing but just sitting there. I didn’t want to eat chocolate. I contemplated making a cake with it but I didn’t want to use flour for the cake. I wasn’t sure if Jan would appreciate having no bread but having cake and the American himself followed a strict no-sugar diet. Besides, a cake was for a festivity...a time of celebration. What was there to celebrate? There hasn’t been a single opportunity in months. I considered donating the chocolate but often times I forgot and everyone seemed to have chocolate.

“What about you, Elisabet?” Leisle asked me sweetly, one of the younger women, closer to my age than most. I was the youngest woman in this club, but also one of the most powerful. “How is your American?”

“He barely comes,” I admitted, feeling that I couldn’t afford to be a recluse when they so graciously and generously invited me. “I like it that way. But he follows a strict diet and eats a lot. I don’t know how that works.”

“Hmm,” Freida scoffed derisively, “I can’t seem to be rid of that American, unlike you!”

I gave her a smile. I sometimes enjoyed their company, other times, I was too delirious with pain to properly interact. I suppose today was one of my better days. “It must be difficult.”

“It must be difficult for Jan,” Freida snorted, unladylike like and indignant, “Losing authority in his own household! My husband has not been taking it well, let me tell you!”

My mood soured at the mention of husbands, my mind going to my tempestuous, unpredictable husband, “It has not been easy, no.”

I would divulge no more information. This wasn’t a pity fest even though I desperately wished for someone to console me and listen to my ever-increasing, never-ending list of problems.  _ ‘Don’t wash your dirty laundryman in public, _ ’ my mother’s voice berated me for the mere fact that I considered speaking openly about my abuse. I looked at Sofie from across the room from me and saw her staring at me, something akin to understanding in her normally compassionate eyes. My stomach dropped. Did she know? I studied her arms, her legs, all her bare skin. Was she in the same situation as me? Was her husband discreet enough with her like mine was? But I saw no markings. But I saw the way her hands trembled and I looked down at my knitting, feeling my eyes tear, watching the way my hands trembled as well, a linear, angry, black bruise where my pinky attached to my knuckle, after Jan stomped on it with a steel-rimmed heel, one of his less discreet gifts, I suppose. I was not the only one. 

I didn’t think I understood I was feeling alone until I realized I had found the same companionship with a woman who was in the same situation as me. The guilty, nasty part rejoiced, but my heart broke at the same time. Misery loves company but I hated myself for it.

“Elisabet,” Sofie’s soft voice murmured and I looked up, finding her taking a seat next to me. I smiled at her in welcome. 

“Hello Sofie, how is your daughter? How is Elias?” I murmured, giving her hand a friendly squeeze.

“They are well. Elias dotes on Silke,” I nodded in understanding. 

“It is good to not be alone,” she murmured, eyeing me nervously. I looked at her then I slowly nodded.

“It is,” I agreed. “Thank you.”

My gratitude clogged my throat. 

*~*~*

The church was a way’s walk from my estate. But I preferred walking instead of taking the car or the buggy. It gave me time to think. I wanted to prolong my entry back to the house. I didn’t want to face Jan or the American. But I always did.

I heard the sound of a car driving behind me and I turned around. It was the American in my house. I moved from the middle of the gravel path to allow the car to pass but it stopped right next to me.

“Would you allow me to give you a ride?” His deep voice asked me. I looked at him, stopping in my tracks. Was he speaking to me? I don’t think he ever directly addressed me in a proper sentence other than ‘Frau Heydrich’.

“I-I,” I didn’t know how to say no. Besides, I suppose it was a bit tiring to walk on a gravel path in heels. “Well, yes. I suppose. Thank you.”

I moved to sit in the back but the door was locked. Then the engine stopped and the American stepped out of his car, walking around it and opening the door of the front seat for me, his chest barely brushing my shoulder. I stepped away from the contact. I didn’t want to sit next to him but this was not my car and I couldn’t retract my consent of the invitation so instead, slightly unhappily, I sat in the front. At least he didn’t ask me in front of any of the villagers. That would have been social suicide and Jan for sure would have beaten me to death. Or near it, at least.

“Thank you,” I said anyways. He walked back around the car and got in. He smelled like aftershave and pure manliness, unlike Jan’s saccharine colognes. He had sweat on the armpits of his white, button-less shirt. When I glanced at the back seat, I realized that he had shed some layers of his uniform in the hot summer weather. His muscled arms were thickly coiled with veins protruding on his tanned skin. And he gripped his steering wheel casually as though he was taking a joy ride instead of using a military-commissioned car. I looked away when I caught the profile of his visage; his handsome, angular features making me blush a little, and then have an existential dilemma. I wasn’t supposed to think he was handsome, but I suppose I wasn’t the only one. Sometimes, when he was in the communal square, patrolling with his fellow soldiers, a few women would let their gazes linger a little while longer. That made me feel a little better about my mental conflicts.

“I just arrived from training my garrison,” he informed me. I didn’t ask him but I was curious. So instead I nodded. I didn’t expect him to do something as menial as training his garrison. He should have been doing some paperwork or something, something befitting his station. But he did everything, from patrolling, to training, to office and civic duties, and that was simply from what I actually observed. As though sensing my confusion, he explained.

“Call me a jack of all trades,” he told me and I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at me but on the road ahead. Another strange, American term. “Friendly husband you have.”

I looked at him sharply. Why would he mention Jan? Did he know? My paranoia was quickly mounting. He was barely ever there, at least from what I knew...he couldn’t possibly know. That would be my undoing. I would be so humiliated. I decided not to grace that comment with an answer befitting the underlying meaning I understood from the context. He didn’t have any business in my marital affairs.

“Yes,” I said tightly. “He is friendly.”

“And hardworking too. He was a Nazi-sympathizer, as I understand it?” I don’t know where his line of questioning was coming from but whatever it was, I was eager to get out of here. But he was going incredibly slow in his car. Or at least, that is what it felt like to me. I was briefly distracted by a hiker’s trail, a hidden side road where I knew a lot of American Military garrison was stationed.

“I--Well, weren’t we all, before?” I said nervously, honestly. We were the losers. We were all from the same country who supported the Nazis. What a silly question to ask. I tried to distance my affiliation with anything that was Nazi because what was the point in supporting them when we lost a war where all the countries fought? If we get rid of the Americans, the British would come on us, then the Soviets, and so on and so forth. What was the point, really?

“No, not all,” he told me, barely glancing at me. The tick at his jaw made me think that he was thinking hard about something. Or he was displeased with something. ‘Not all’? That was weird. I never met another German, like me, who was not a supporter. I tried to think back with all my interactions with the villagers and councilmembers. I tried to remember who didn’t salute the Füher’s name every time they entered a room, or all those who didn’t agree with me when I self-righteously parroted Jan’s ideologies. I tried to recall any little detail, or any person who was no longer in the village. Propaganda made people overzealous and I remembered that our village’s butcher and his family were transported for indecent behavior and nonconformity. But I had long forgotten about them. My flighty, silly mind was too preoccupied with other things, like an impending wedding, picking out my China set… and then my mind became dull and depressed. 

“I have my suspicion that Jan Heydrich might have been responsible for a few acts, here and there. I was hoping you would enlighten me,” the American continued, his forefinger tapping on the steering wheel. My eyes drew to a ring on his ring finger. It was too large and elaborate to be a wedding ring...was it an heirloom?

“Jan never told me anything,” I said flatly, honestly. He only ever beat me when I asked too many questions. I was surprised at his audacity to expect me to betray my husband. Besides, Jan wasn’t simply a sympathizer, he was an integral member of the Nazi regime. I had followed him mindlessly and thoughtlessly, thinking of how my mother followed my father unconditionally. I had always admired their dynamic because that was all I had ever known and I had wanted that with Jan. A foolish notion if there ever was one “He doesn’t talk about his work because of the confidentiality clause in his employment contract.”

That I knew about. It was the first ever excuse he had given me and it was always the excuse I gave the villagers when they bombarded me with questions.

“Do you know where he works?” the American asked.

When I thought about it, I didn’t really. “No. I am not sure what he does. He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“As I understand it, you … think he is an assemblyman?” The American was phrasing his words eloquently but I was getting tired of this line of questioning. Why did he go through that path? That would take longer! But I kept silent about that.

“Think?” I couldn’t help the offence in my tone. He made it sound as if I was a dumb village girl. Normally, if I considered it deeply enough, I would agree with that. But that American had no right to make up silly conclusions about me. “Yes, that is his employment title in the village,” I agreed, deciding that giving him attitude would get me nowhere. There was no harm in giving information that everyone knows about.

“Hmm…” he murmured noncommittally. I didn’t know why he was so curious. But next time he invites me on a car ride, I was not getting on. 

*~*~*

I shuddered when I felt Jan slipping out of me. I curled into a ball when I felt him get off the bed. Everywhere hurt. My bleary eye was drawn to the side of my thigh, where a huge expanse of a bruise covered my upper thigh and part of my butt cheek. It was quickly swelling and bruising black, rapidly. He had taken a fist to me so rapidly that I had no time to react and when i did, he held me down and tied me to the bedpost, overpowering me with his brute strength.

I hugged myself, wishing my mother never stopped visiting me. After the invasion, regular visits to each other's houses were nearly impossible with the number of enemy soldiers that littered the street like garbage. And with such privacy, came the terrible abuse. Was he waiting for her to stop coming so he can start beating me to take out his frustrations? No one deserved it, leastways me. I always tried to please him, and make food to his taste.

I craved some comfort, someone to hold me gently and kiss away my hurts. I wished that Jan was the husband to me that I read about in those fanciful novels. I hated those novels. My enlightenment to this cruel world was like falling from the sky from a thousand feet to concrete and surviving. 

“Will you come down for lunch? I will have to leave after,” Jan said gruffly. I wanted to say no but there were only so many excuses that Jan could give to the American before he started to suspect something and dig his self-righteous nose into our business.

“Yes,” I whimpered, forcing myself to crane my neck, watching as Jan opened his bedroom door to the hallways. I mentally begged for him to close it quickly. That American could be lurking everywhere. 

“Speak louder,” he commanded.

“Yes,” I said as loudly as I could without my voice cracking. He made a sound of affirmation and exited my room. 

I cleaned myself up and put the dress that covered me more than usual. In this heat, I know I am going to regret it. But what can I say other than that he got careless this time around? My arm had a few bruises.

I decided to wear flats. My heels hurt from wearing heels all the time. After fixing my hair, I walked downstairs to the dining room, but shortly passed when I heard low, angry voices.

“Shut the fuck up,” that was Jan’s voice. My heart dropped to my knees and I stepped back, absolutely terrified that he would catch me in his angry moments. It was clear that he just received some dressing down from the American and that he was humiliated. If he knew I was here, my beating tonight might just kill me. I was barely recovering from my beating 2 hours ago.

“Careful,” It was that American’s voice, low and mocking, almost hatefully. “Someone might just hear you.”

“Keep your nose out of my fucking business. You have no right.”

“I have the only right. You cowards lost and now you have no rights, just to be clear. Your own house is no longer yours,” why was the American being so informal and hateful? I never heard someone speak like that. In fact, when Jan spoke, he sounded scared. 

“The fuck it is,” he hissed, “I’ll report you!”

“To who? I am the highest authority and you know it,” while the American’s voice was cool and calm and low, Jan’s voice was increasing in pitch. I decided to make myself known by pretending to step a little harder as I entered the room. I studiously ignored the tensions and the men as I pretended to busy myself with filling the water glasses with the jug of water I kept on the side. I had prepared the food previously. And it was now waiting, fully prepared, on the table. 

“Let’s eat,” Jan growled, seeming to be trying to regain composure from the way he cleared his throat nervously. I couldn’t see his face because I was terrified that he could see that I can read his humiliation. Ignorance was bliss. The American was standing there, tall and proud, unruffled from the confrontation that he just had with Jan. His hair was swept back and his eyes were trained on me. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them, like lava. It made all the hairs on my body rise and goose flesh to rise up my arms. I wished he wouldn’t look at me. Only recently had I realized that he was looking at me and that was what probably fuelled Jan’s ire. 

Jan took his seat after pulling out mine more for appearances than courtesy because the way he pushed me into the table stomped on my ribs so hard that I was barely able to breathe, struggling to push my chair back for a second, looking around in alarm. My vision was hazy with pulsating pain, originating from my ribs. And then something pushed the foot of my chair away from the table and I was able to breathe once more and maneuver the rest of the chair back. I looked beneath the table to see what had pushed me and saw a large, black, boot-clad foot. The American. I couldn’t look at him. I was humiliated that Jan would treat me like this in front of strangers. I cleared my throat, risking a glance at Jan, who stared at the bowl of stew I had prepared with a hateful gaze.

Once we were settled, we served ourselves and I, as usual, looked dolefully at my food. I wished that Jan would hold himself before eating times. That way, I would have some time to recover. Instead, I am stuck sitting on a wooden chair, with no cushioning. I could barely lift my spoon. Eating was the least of my worries and priorities. Masking my pain and what I had witnessed was even more important. And studiously ignoring my surroundings and focusing on the sad little plate that I managed to serve myself was a main priority. In my pain and lack of appetite, I had only served myself a scoop of mash, not bothering with anything else so that made me look even more silly.

Jan quickly shovelled his food in his mouth, getting up and excusing himself. I weakly waved good-bye when he pinched my shoulder. It might have looked affectionate, but he just pinched some newly bruising flesh there so I could do nothing but force a smile on my face and resist my eyes from overflowing with tears. They were already so hot from the tears I was desperately trying to hold back. Controlling my physiological and mental reactions was exhausting and draining. 

“Bye,” Jan muttered sullenly, informally.

I hummed noncommittally and looked back at the American but he still hadn’t moved.

“It must be chilly today,” the American said casually after Jan had slammed the front door shut, indicating that he had left the house. I watched the American’s long fingers fiddle with a napkin. I looked at him, unimpressed. It clearly wasn't, I was toasting in my dress and I could see the sweat on his armpits.

“Very,” I said dryly, giving a little shudder for effect. But the fact that he drew attention to the heat made me even hotter.

“I hear you sometimes, you know?” The American told me and I stared at him. He heard me what? Scream? Cry? Get beaten? Why was he not minding his own business? I was wrong about his undisruptive presence. He was annoying.

“Hear me what?” I asked him coolly, feeling anything but.

“I see the way you sit, the way you eat your food...I see everything that goes on,” he informed me, getting up and walking around the table to the fireplace behind me. I tensed in my chair, my senses sizzling with his closer proximity, and the fact that I couldn’t see him.

“Then you will do better to mind your own business,” I told him sharply. What was he trying to do?

“What does he do to you?” He murmured quietly. I abruptly got up, humiliation and shame welling up in my chest.  _ He had absolutely no right. _

“I can’t speak with you,” I snapped, turning to walk away but his hand shot out and gripped my injured arm. I cried out in pain, yanking my arm away instinctively. I turned around and found him staring at me coolly, knowingly.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Why do you make it your job to be a hero I don’t need?” I snapped. “You are a pestilence in this house!”

My breath hitched when I realized that I didn’t think before speaking, but it was too late to stop now. If I was going to die, might as well make it worth something.

“Thank me,” he demanded, glaring down at me. 

“For what?” I shrilled, eyeing him and recoiling from his audacity. That man!

“I see the way he pushed you in,” the American was baring his teeth at me in a feral expression, not even a smile. “I can see that he did it with purpose to harm you and he did. You were like a newborn babe, helpless to help yourself.”

He was referring to the fact that he pushed my chair away. I probably should thank him but that would bring on unnecessary attention that I didn’t need. “Go to hell,” I growled, feeling my palm twitch, half-tempted to slap him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll drag Jan with me,” he sneered and I felt my eyes water with frustration. I didn’t need this. I was wasn't cool and composed. I wore my heart on my sleeve and this man knew how to string me like an over-wired guitar.

“You invade our land and you-you take over our homes! I know what your soldiers did to our women! I know very well! And--and you keep asking me those stupid, invasive questions, making those silly and humiliating demands of me, and you keep looking at me! Stop that! It is why he hurts me--”

I held my breath, realizing I gave away too much. Maybe, hopefully, he didn’t understand what I was saying in German but he did. He did. I know he did. From the way his expression hardened and then quickly smoothed back into a poker face, he did. I couldn’t do anything now. I unwittingly and heatedly answered his question and now I have nowhere left to hide. My room could no longer offer me refuge. 

“Don’t speak to me,” I snarled finally, trying to gather the remnants of my dignity, “Don’t look at me and stop it! Stop your invasive questions and mind your business! Please!” 

I turned around and quickly walked out of the dining room. I walked outside of the estate, ignoring the piling tents outside the gates of my house. I walked past them too. I needed to see Sofie. She was the only person I know who could offer me comfort right now. How could I have been so careless? 

But instead, I walked and walked until I reached Sofie’s house. When I knocked on the door, Sofie opened up the door. She was smiling at me, albeit somewhat weakly.

“May I please come in?” I murmured shyly, wondering if she considered it rude if I did.

“I don’t see why not,” She murmured stepping aside.

And then I told her everything. I had cried a few times, I drank myself a cup of warm tea. She comforted me, hugged me, sympathized with me. She carefully avoided the topic of the American.

“Did you know…” Sofie was telling me, “Our neighbors, they preach love and attend mass every Sunday but...they also like to gossip. Many times, they have set complaints at city hall. So many of them...the officer that lives with us, he sometimes has those complaints with him. I read one once. It was someone accusing that spinister, Marie Ludwig, of affiliations with her brother, Bruno Ludwig.”

“What?” I was horrified. Incest was a serious offense against the church. Why would someone accuse them of that? “Why would they do that?”

“It’s all gossip, people wanting to settle old scores. I have been told your Officer gets the majority of them. Many of them are about Jan, you know?”

“Jan?” I echoed and Sofie looked at me pityingly.

“Ask your Officer...he might tell you something.”,” Sofie said ambiguously. I stared at her, feeling a sense of dread.

“I don’t want to know,” I murmured fearfully.

“I think it is better that you do. It might explain a lot of things,” Sofie urged me quietly. “Our lives in ignorance have proven unfavorable to us.”

The unspoken phrase of  _ why he hits you so much _ remained unspoken but heavily implied. I felt my legs pushing me up on my own accord. I needed to leave.

“I need to leave,” I whimpered and Sofie nodded in understanding, kissing my cheek and bidding me farewell. But I was too numb to pay her the same courtesy.

I needed to see the reason why he hated me so much, the cause of my unhappiness, the reason for my bruises and welts nearly every single night, the reason why he raped me. I needed to know. I needed to try and fix this. I couldn’t bear how unhappy I was. I just needed to know. I had the absolute right to know. I could barge into that stupid American’s office and I could read all those disgusting letters. I don’t care if he shoots me on the spot, at least I would know before I die. 

When I finally reached the manor, it was nearly five. I had one more hour left for lunch but it was too late to do anything. The whole world could be burning around me for all I care, Jan could be beating the living daylights out of me but I would still be determined to know the reason for my torture and torment. 

When I reached the American’s office, I was surprised to find it unlocked. When I entered, his desk was littered with neatly arranged letters. Were those the letters? I needed to know. I looked through each and every single one of them, uncaring of the mess I made. 

When I finally found all the letters with Jan’s name, I began reading them.

_ “Assemblyman Jan Heydrich has a mistress,” _ One said,  _ “He goes to work every day and copulates with her because his wife is barren. He should be charged with public indecency.” _

_ “..he neglects his wife and beats her, he had a mistress who is pregnant now. He should be charged with public indecency and infidelity…” _

_ “...He has a chain of bastards across the country, that might not even be his to begin with...and even more mistresses...all because of the infertility of his ignorant wife, Elisabet Heydrich, he should be brought forth to recognize these bastards…or he should be tested for fertility...his other mistresses adhere to more than one man, usually...” _

By then I was crying my eyes out, my snot running down my nose. Why was I only knowing about this now? Is that why the women were so kind to me lately? Why they were watching me pityingly, sympathetically? Those letters and complaints were anonymous and I couldn’t recognize anyone’s handwriting. My mind was drawing to a blank. Is that why the American was questioning me? Everyone knows I am barren and useless as a wife. The shame was crushing. I hope that when Jan comes home this time, that he beats me to death. If he didn’t, I think I would swallow a whole bottle of painkillers. It would be poetic justice. He would be punished for my murder and I would be put out of my suffering---

“What are you doing here?” the American’s voice was sharp and displeased. I looked up and stared at him blankly. “Did I not make it clear not to enter my office?”

His face held no mercy, even when I was crying, but he was studying me intently. I ignored his question anyway. He could beat me too if he liked. It seemed as though everyone was beating me, whether with fists, words, or actions. I could find no comfort and no one to console me or love me.

“How long have you known? Was that why you asked me these questions?” I demanded. I was feeling hurt, betrayed, and wild with resentment. He should have told me something to ease my life. I could have made a more active effort to find a midwife or actually go to a doctor this time for fertility treatments. I would have gone bankrupt for this.

“I did not feel at rights to tell you,” he admitted after a moment of contemplative silence that nearly drove me to my wits’ end.

“Is it a stupid confidentiality clause in your employment contract also?” I asked him bitterly. “This is my life! Not yours!”

“Elisabet?” Jan’s voice sounded and my heart leaped in fear. Immediately, the American straightened. Jan entered the office, his appearance haggard, reeking of alcohol.

“Is that why you beat me?” I shrilled, uncaring now. I could die right on the spot, but not before I finally stood up to myself. “Because I couldn’t--”

I held my tongue, unable to speak that dreadful word. My entire marriage was centered around the idea of conception and I failed at the one thing in life I was biological, socially, and morally created to do. Could there be a more pathetic human?

Jan stared at me blankly, uncomprehending; “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You married me for a child didn’t you?” I shrilled, glaring at him through my tears, “Well you have one--no a few--not from me! From the string of women that you pull along with you! You should adopt them as yours!”

I shoved the letters into the American’s chest; “ _ You _ can keep your stupid secrets!” 

I made to walk past Jan, foolishly enough, but I felt a hand yanking me back by my hair and I yelped in alarm. I almost fell to my back side if it wasn’t for the powerful fist holding me up by my hair like a rag doll. It felt as though the force would rip out my hair, rendering me bald. That was all that was left to happen, literally. Going bald right before I die. 

“You dirty whore--how dare you!” Jan snarled but the cocking of a gun made him stop, just as his fist greeted my vision.

“I will have to ask you to please let her go,” The American’s voice was dangerous, deceptively soft. I looked back at him and saw him aiming a sharp handgun at Jan's head, dead center to his eyes from my view. “I am arresting you on the charge of domestic abuse, intoxication during the period of prohibition, public indecency, and suspicion of treason and war crimes.”

Jan shoved me away as though he had been burned. I stumbled clumsily and then dropping to the floor in shock. I could no longer hold myself up so I was sprawled on the floor, my skirt hiked up to my thighs, revealing where my stockings ended, and exposing my hideous bruises, but that was the last thing on my mind. I was struck dumb by what was happening, staring at Jan in horror. War crimes? I read about those; those were atrocious crimes that violated some international convention--the Geneva convention. Was Germany a part of it? Everything about Jan started to make sense; his cruelty, his brutality, his general unpleasantness. It wasn’t just reserved for me, but for the unfortunate victims of his sadism. 

“What the fuck?” Jan repeated dumbly and from the stairs came five American soldiers. When did they come in? I looked back at the American who was holding a paper--an arrest warrant. “You can’t do that! I am assemblyman Jan Heydrich! I am more powerful than all you fucking peasants!”

“No one is above the law,” The American said coolly as the soldiers detained and handcuffed Jan forcefully, as he continued to resist. It was like looking at a bull, being held down by ropes, eyes alight with fire and fury. I was terrified that he was going to break free and run me through like that car hit Heidi Willhelm when we were twelve. I remember how she looked; like a pancake that had been burned and disfigured, and her eyes never opened again. Would that be me? An ugly death? Seemingly inevitable and terrible? “You will stand trial in Nuremberg. I am sure you remember it.”

I was like a fish out of water, gaping and struggling to breathe as Jan was dragged away, kicking and screaming, slurring his words, his eyes wild, like a caged animal, and his hair everywhere. I looked back at the American and his face was grim. I didn’t know whether to scream at him or be grateful. He only regarded me coolly; on the floor and undignified as I was. I tugged down my skirt, wincing at the voice behind me, speaking in English. Without taking his gaze of me, the American replied back in English and the footsteps receded away, indicating that the other person had left.

“Domestic abuse,” I whispered faintly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I have cause and eyewitnesses,” he shrugged, “I can do whatever the fuck I like.”

I flinched at his vulgarity but nodded anyway, forcing myself to my feet, to try and restore my dignity. He never stepped forward to help me or made any move to come closer to me as I would have expected and I was grateful. Touching any man right now, in any manner, repulsed me.

“I think you know now that it was not my looking at you that gave cause for your husband to hurt you,” he told me airily.

“Yes,” I agreed miserably, feeling humiliated anyways, even when his voice was softer now.

“I think I would like a chocolate cake at lunch, one time” he said thoughtfully and I stared at him.

“Chocolate cake?” I echoed, of all things to speak about...chocolate cake?

He smirked at me, “I imagine that you didn’t finish seven bars of chocolate on your own.”

I shook my head, feeling my lips tug upwards against my will, “No.”

“It is settled then; I would like to please share it with you,” he told me and I nodded. I didn’t see why not. Now that my husband was no longer here, I felt liberated. When I looked at my invader, I realized that he was simply my liberator. My eyes flew to his gun, which was now in its holster at his tapered hips. He protected me, not with raw strength, but with his power and intelligence. 

“Thank you” I murmured, tentatively holding out a hand for him to shake. For a moment, he did nothing but then he gently grabbed my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

He unwittingly saved me; not from my husband, but from myself. I was so determined that after this night, I would swallow all fifteen of my painkillers. But now that I was, for once, safe in my own house, I can sleep at night without Jan barging into my room, raping me or beating me. I felt as though I was able to hold out on downing my 15 painkillers. I felt as though if I took only 2, I would sleep and I wouldn’t wake for a long time. Time enough for my body to heal and be adjusted to its newfound, safe environment, guarded by an American soldier. This man, the American Lieutenant General Glorfindel Laurefindel, he was my saviour.

He was no longer simply _ the American _ . He was...my savior, my beacon of light and hope.

I looked away from his intense gaze.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A newfound freedom comes with revelations.

That night, I barely slept. I tossed and turned, thinking about all the events that transpired between Jan, the American, and I. That American...he doesn’t know that he saved my life. He didn’t know that I was planning to end my life. This man was my enemy. He was my invader and my oppressor in my own home. But now, I couldn’t decide between invader and liberator. He knew, this whole time. He was only trying to collect enough evidence to charge Jan with whatever he could. And I was too consumed in my loneliness, unhappiness, naivete, and pain to realize. But to be fair, he never gave away his designs.  
That night, Jan didn’t come into my room and force himself on me. He didn’t whip me or beat me. In fact, he never came at all. I simply remained in an eerie silence, in the darkness, staring at the canopy of my bed. I kept replaying the events of the night over and over in my head until I could no longer. So when I couldn’t sleep, I simply got off my bed, ignoring the chill in my feet and forced myself to walk to the bathroom. I turned on my bathroom lights and studied my body once more. My body was a mural of fading bruises, some newer than others. The welts he had given me a few weeks back had nearly faded but the new ones on my bum, were he whipped me the other day, were now angry and red. It was unbearable to sit on my bum, or sleep on it. My ribs were showing in an awful manner and my once full, heavy, and perky breasts were now limp with malnourishment and discoloured with bruises. It always hurt more when he hit me or pinched me there. I had a cut just below my nipple from his ring, I remember how painful that was and the pain made me shudder, no matter how stale the injury. Now, the thin body that I always craved repulsed me. I didn’t want this picture of unhealthiness greeting me.  
I remember how loud I screamed that day. I know that Lieutenant General Laurefindel could not have heard it because he was at an officer party that night. Perhaps that was why Jan was so violent that day. I shuddered at the memory off his pale face, his redneck, and his small pupils. I covered my mouth with my hand and looked away to suppress a sob. It was terrible. It was all so very terrible. How could I have ever accepted my beatings like that? Why did I never ask why he did it? Why did I think it was normal? No one hit someone else like that unless they really hated them.  
I looked at the wedding band that was given to me by Jan. I used to think it was so pretty, I used to always, in any way I could, put it on display. Now, it was the ugliest thing I ever wore, even if it was the most valuable. This ring represented everything that ever tormented me. It represented my infertility, Jan’s abuse and infidelity, my torment, my torture, my oppression, and all the failed views I have ever had on marriage and on life. I didn’t live in the ideal marriage I had envisioned for so long, especially in the final months, even before the Allied Occupation.   
Now, it was an issue for me to face society once more. How would society accept a woman whose husband has been taken away by the Allies? Do I wear black in mourning? How do I act? I cannot imagine being anything other than happy. But that would not sit well. Whatever it was, I was still Jan Heydrich’s wife. I had an image to uphold even though I was technically no longer obligated to.   
After I took 2 painkillers, I decided to sleep before I had to face the rest of the day.   
*~*~*  
I found it was easier to act a grieving wife than it was to be the happy one. Everyone misinterpreted my emotions so that annoyed me, but not enough to outwardly show it. The only person who actually knew was Sofie, who stood, silent, next to her husband. I studied her husband critically. He always seemed like a pleasant fellow. But so did Jan. Jan had an entire congregation and popularity that hid his true nature. So instead, I gave him a simple handshake and hugged Sofie.   
“My condolences,” Sofie said, loud enough for her husband to hear and to my ear, only for my hearing; “Congratulations.”  
I gave her a teary, grateful smile. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Here I was, flaunting my liberation in her face. The fact that she wasn’t resentful of me made her a better person than I. I have always been envious of the other married women, who seemed to be perfectly content in their lives.   
“The allies are pigs, yes?” Reinhard told me as an off handed offering for comfort, “Come now, Sofie, we must go.”  
“Good-bye,” Sofie said.   
“Will you drop by later?” I asked her desperately. Sofie paused in her steps and looked at Reinhard unsurely. He looked at her briefly and then nodded, turning around and walking towards the gaggle of men there.   
“I’ll try to,” Sofie promised me, “But I can’t leave Silke alone for too long. She cries.”  
“Bring her along,” I invited her. “I don’t mind. I just need you to be there with me, only for a few hours. It is strange to live alone once more.”  
“You have the American don’t you?” She asked me and I shrugged, keeping my face neutral. Having an American was similar to having an inanimate object. I couldn’t interact with it.  
“He is not much company, I don’t speak to him,” it was a half-truth but it wasn’t wrong.  
“I’m not too sure Reinhard would want me there either way, but you can come over though,” She suggested and I nodded.  
“When works best?” I asked her. I was desperate for company, to stop myself from listening to my own thoughts.   
“Come now, Reinhard usually goes to play pool with his friends after mass,” she told me and I nodded, smiling gratefully at her, but then my face fell. I had nothing to give her.  
“I’ll drop by tomorrow also,” I promised her, “For a short time, I need to run errands anyways.”  
“To where?” Sofie asked me, walking beside me as we walked back to her house, Silke holding on to my hand.  
“City Hall,” I informed her, “I am due there for questioning.”  
It was the first thing that Lt. General Laurefindel had told me when I woke up this morning, dressed and ready for mass in my dark dress, my hair neatly curled and a demure, brown lipstick on my mouth. He had said it to me, briefly, curtly, before saluting me in that way of his and stepping outside.   
“Oh,” Sofie frowned, glancing at me nervously, pityingly. “I hear that their questioning can be quite brutal sometimes.”  
“I know, I heard that too,” I agreed, fear spiking in my chest at the thought. I had avoided thinking about the manner of the questioning. “But...I don’t think I did anything wrong. Hopefully, they won’t handle me roughly. There is only so much I can take.”  
The last part was whispered fearfully. I shuddered at the thought of having to get beat again, this time by officers, whose hands were infinitely rougher than Jan’s. There was once a Nazi sympathizer in the village who had challenged one of the Americans, even going as far as to punch him in the face. He hadn’t been seen for a week and the next time he was seen, we was being dragged away by American officers and unceremoniously dumped on the front porch of his house, covered in bruises. I shuddered at the thought because if a grown man hadn’t been able to properly stand after that, how much better would I fare?   
So we walked back the entire way to her house, speaking about menial things, and trying not to think of my impending appointment at City Hall. Sofie’s house was small and surprisingly cozy. I wasn’t sure what I expected.  
“It is the only thing he lets me do by myself,” Sofie told me, “He lets me decorate the house.”  
I nodded in understanding. So far, no ill word had ever passed our lips of our husbands. The implication that we were in similar situations, together, was not missed between the both of us. But what more can we do in a world that is dominated by men?  
*~*~*  
That night, I barely slept. I only managed to get a few hours of sleep in before the alarm clock at run at six, signifying that I should wake up and get ready for my appointment at seven.   
I put on a black dress, that was now oversized, with pink flowers on it, my pale brogue heels, and I let my hair down in its natural curly, down to my hips, only putting up two clips on the side to pull the hair away from my face fashionably. I swiped on my brown lipstick, rubbed rouge on my cheeks, put on some mascara and stared at my eyebrows dolefully. They weren’t fashionably thin any longer. In the past few weeks I had let them grow. Still, they arched pleasantly enough that it was not a hassle. If I admitted, they flattered my face well enough. But they were still not fashionable.  
I stepped outside of my room, carrying my purse with my documents in it, my hat on my head. When I walked downstairs, I found that Lt. General Laurefindel was there, waiting for me. I stopped only a few steps in front of him, watching him wearily.   
“Ready?” He asked me softly, watching me pick at my gloves.  
No, I wanted to say but instead, I nodded my head and waited for him to proceed.  
“I won’t let them hurt you,” he murmured and I looked up at him, alarmed at his perceptiveness. How did he always guess right at my emotions when he was like a statue himself?  
“Will you be the one questioning me?” I asked him hopefully and he shook his head, his face passive. I preferred him over another stranger. At least he wasn’t much of a stranger since we actually lived together for the better part of three months.  
“Conflict of interest,” he said, his expression giving nothing away, “But I will be outside if you need anything.”  
“Ok,” I nodded, not dwelling on that little ‘conflict of interest’ part. It didn’t make sense. It was probably a poorly translated American term. Or maybe that he lived in the same house as I made him a bit biased.  
This time, he wasn’t driving. A car awaited us, similar to the one he had. The driver was in the front. Lt. General Laurefindel got in the front after he opened the back seat for me. The ride to City Hall seemed terribly short. The entire time I was trembling. I wanted to relieve myself, I wanted to run away, I wanted to cry...I just didn’t want to be questioned by the Americans. Despite his assurances and the way he prove himself a the night previous, I still couldn’t get the paranoia that I would be seriously hurt during the questioning out of my head.   
When we finally arrived to City Hall, I got out of the car and waited for Lt. General Laurefindel to lead me inside. First, we went through a few documentation procedures where I signed a few forms and had my picture taken. The entire time, curiously enough, Lt. General Laurefindel was in my vision. He translated many things for me. I wasn’t very good at English and before my impending appointment at City hall, I briefly read through a German-English dictionary but none of it was even remotely helpful because my mind was blank.  
After, I was taken to a room, it was more of an office, where I sat there, patiently, the blinds were drawn and the doors were closed. I waited there for fifteen minutes before someone came. It was a man, short with a full head of hair that looked as though he trimmed it every day. His face was square and his eyes were sharp.   
When he spoke German, there was a heavy accent that made me have to slowly digest his words. I wished that Lt. General Laurefindel was in the room right now.  
“Name?” he asked me.  
“Elisabet Sabine Wolfgang-Heydrich,” I told him.  
“Date of birth?”  
“March 12, 1928,” I said, he looked over the papers and nodded.  
He asked me basic questions about myself, the names of my parents, their nationalities, and such other. When it came to the actual questioning, I could barely understand him. Soon, it seemed as though he was getting frustrated with my confusion. I kept asking him to repeat and it was frustrating me too until finally, he slammed his fist down and I yelped in alarm. I looked at the door desperately, hoping Lt. General Laurefindel was still there like he had promised me. But he didn’t come. Instead, the officer who was questioning me got up, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Shortly after, he came back, with Lt. General Laurefindel behind him. I felt my entire body thrumm with relief. He sat down in front of me, the other officer pulling up a chair next to him.  
When Lt. General Laurefindel spoke, I understood every single word and I answered as honestly as I was able. The questions were generally of my experiences as a wife to Jan Heydrich. I had to go into great detail about what exactly he did to me. It was perhaps even more humiliating because now the Lt. General knew and I had to face him everyday. Thankfully, his face gave nothing away. I didn’t want to know what he was thinking and I certainly didn’t want him to pity me. But once again, nothing is within my power.   
The officer who was questioning me was more expressive that the Lt. General. His face was hard and sometimes pitying. It was easier to speak to him that the Lt. General, who was like a brick wall.   
After the questioning was over with, I was free to go and surprisingly, I was unharmed. I had almost jumped for joy.  
“I will give you a ride back to the estate,” Lt. General informed me but I shook my head.  
“No,” I said firmly, unable to stand his presence. After everything he discovered about me… I couldn’t bear to stand close to him, much less look at him. I must have seemed so pathetic and weak. I was never a woman of many strengths. I was cowardly and meek. I wasn’t strong willed. I was emotional and my rationality was the equivalent of appeasement. I let people walk all over me because I either don’t know better or I am helpless. I wasn’t promoting any good qualities to my gender and I certainly wasn’t the herald for the feminist club. I had no designs or ambitions and how could I when my future, even now, was so bleak? What will I do now? What can I be productive by? The school where I taught arithmetic was practically shut down. Nobody trusted their children to walk amidst the Americans to school so currently, I was unemployed and I had no benefits coming in. The more my mind flitted through these awful considerations, the more my distress mounted.  
“I am going to a friend’s place now,” I choked weakly. I guess getting out of one situation only made the other worse. I contemplated going back to my parents but would they accept me? I remember that they were honestly glad to be rid of me, it was already a little taxing on them to have an unmarried daughter...now they would have a ‘widowed’ daughter. Which was worse. The men have all left for war and have either been killed, or already bound themselves to their previous sweethearts and my village didn’t have many men to boast of. I looked down at my feet to hide my pained expression, I was trying to block out my obsessive inner monologue.  
The Lt. General watched me pensively and then finally stepped away, saluting me formally. I watched dully as he swerved away in his tapered uniform. Then, I turned around, not acknowledging him back, even if h would have seen it. I still didn’t make that chocolate cake for him. That would have to wait. I walked into the town market, I managed to haggle a pastry chef for a few, freshly baked pastries. I walked to Sofie’s place and for the rest of the day, until curfew, I didn’t come back.   
*~*~*  
When I had arrived to the estate the Lt. General was not anywhere to be seen. I took off my shoes the moment I got to the threshold. I had been in heels the entire time. I undid the belt of my dress and walked upstairs, taking off any jewellery that I had on. I walked upstairs to my room and began changing into my nightgown. I wasn’t tired. I was high-strung. There was so much that happened. So much to comprehend. Sofie had been welcoming and I spent the day with her, preparing butter tarts and exchanging recipes; doing anything but thinking of the future.   
Then I walked back downstairs, if the Lt. General is not here yet, then he won’t be before 12, I have a few hours to kill in the library for now. I sat down and began to read the first book I could find. It was a book written by our previous leader, the Führer; My Struggle.   
I never bothered to read it until now. Before people would give me their opinions on the book, those who actually read it, and I just accepted it. No use reading the book that everyone already did when they could tell it to me. I was too preoccupied with my own fanciful novels. But halfway into the book, I frowned. The book was stating some rather extreme things, that were sweetened to me by the retelling of other people. Something about the German race being the best race. It ostracized a lot of the other nationalities and in particular, targeted the Jews, which horrified me. I began to see everything in a new light that I didn’t before. The jews couldn’t be lesser. How could they when they were God’s chosen race? How were the catholics bad? His reasoning didn’t make sense--the black people, there weren’t any black people in Germany for me to know enough about them. But how can one race be superior to the other if everyone was human? Slavery was abolished for that reason. The book didn’t present substantial scientific evidence for me. One more thing for me to throw out, I suppose. One failed vision that I thought I understood so perfectly, but really, I didn’t understand. At one point, that book was all that anyone ever read. Everyone enjoyed it but I couldn’t find anything enjoyable about it. The science was flawed because there were so many other possibilities. The uniqueness of individuals made it impossible to generalize them so callously. It disgusted me. I didn’t understand why I never read it sooner but I was glad I never did. I always told myself that I would and I kept forgetting to. I got up, disgust radiating from my body before tossing the book into the fire.   
With the burning book, so did all the rest of the fake reality that I had created in my mind burn with it. I looked away coughing slightly when the smoke started to rise. I’ll leave this room to be for now. I opened the window and walked to the living room, sitting down on one of the couches, in the dark and laying down. I didn’t want to go to my room just yet. I would rather be here for the time being.  
*~*~*  
When I woke up the next day, I was warm. I opened my eyes and found that I had a blanket and a jacket over my body, an army one. I knew immediately to whom it belonged to; the Lt. General in my house. He didn’t have to cover me. The cold would have eventually woken me up and I would have lazily shuffled upstairs to my room. But I was still thankful. When I looked at the clock, I realised that it was nine in the morning. I never slept in that late before. I was probably a rumpled mess.  
“Good morning,” the Lt. General’s deep voice voice said behind me. I turned around and stared at him blankly. He was standing there, in nothing but his pajama pants. His chest was completely bare and I quickly looked away, blushing. He was holding a price of paper and a mug of something steaming that might have been coffee. He was absolutely gorgeous and I started when I saw that we was wearing black, browline reading spectacles. His hair as more ruffled than I had ever seen it and I felt as though I was staring at a different man, as though the man I had been living in the same house with for months was gone. My face felt like a million degrees. Why was he strutting around like that, and so unfairly beautiful as well?  
“Good morning,” I said curtly, ignoring the way his defined body stood bare for all of God’s creatures to see him. Which ever woman would get the pleasure to wed such a magnificent beast would be lucky indeed.  
“Did you sleep well?” he asked me. I nodded my head.   
“Thank you,” I got up, looking at anything but him. I quickly folded the blankets and straightened up. “Here you go.”  
I held out his jacket for him.  
“Keep it, you might get chilly going up the stairs,” he told me, glancing down at the paper in his hand. Before stepping forward, eyeing his jacket.  
I looked up at him, eyeing him critically before taking it back and wrapping it around my shoulders, slipping back into my house slippers. “If you are going to spy on me, you might as well give me a compliment,” I didn’t know what made me so bold but I found I wasn’t going to disagree with myself and I was too proud to make up excuses for my boldness. What was there to lose? Jan was gone and I had nothing to bide my time with but to do absolutely nothing, maybe speaking would someone would delay my descent to madness.  
“Spying?” His eyebrows shot up derisively,glancing down at...what was he looking at? The man wasn’t even abashed, his face didn’t change colours and he just looked so cool and calm and collected. “What gave you the impression?”  
“You watch me, don’t you?” I asked him, trying to gather my thoughts. I was getting embarrassed. Why was he dragging out such questions? He smirked at me. I had began to notice, in odd times of the day, whether it me in the market, town, or even at home, he would be watching me. When I caught him looking, he would boldly continue to look, even going as far as looking me dead in the eyes. It would embarrass me, especially when he did it so public ally. What would the people say? Was he not aware how...strange that was? What he was thinking was a mystery to me.   
“Sometimes,” he acknowledged, his lips tugging upwards in a crooked smirk, his eyes shiny as he watched me through his glasses.  
“Is there something in particular that you like?” I asked him walking past him, shrugging on his jacket. It smelled good. Besides, I always wondered why he was always looking at me.   
“What is there to not like?” He asked from behind me and I faltered in my steps. I didn’t actually expect him to give me a reply like this. I sort of expected him to make up a silly excuse, not to give me a compliment, no matter how ambiguous. I glanced back at him, and found him watching me, his arms crossed, his face unsmiling now, his steaming cup of coffee in one hand, suspended, and the paper in the other. A magnificent sight to be sure. What a strange way to give a compliment.  
I turned around and walked upstairs pretending to not be affected. Pretending that I won’t overthink his compliment. Pretending.  
*~*~*  
I finally got around to making the chocolate cake. It turned out better than I expected. The smell was absolutely wonderful. I melted some chocolate coating on the cake and finally, it was presentable. I made some pork loin finger rolls and some soup. Afterwards, I brought the food upstairs. It was one of ‘Glorfindel’s’ days off. He insisted I call him by his first name. It was curious that he would spend his off-day at the estate.  
I had decided to wear something nice. Not revealing. But it was my nicest dress, a light pink dress, wearing my brogue heels and swiping on nude lipstick, so that I looked good, but I wasn’t being suggestive. I didn’t want to wear bold colours. I lightly lined my eyes with kohl and I made some effort to shave my legs. If I wanted to look nice, I might as well go the whole hog in. I wasn’t sure why I as making so much effort to begin with. Just as I was about to put on earrings, I paused. Did I really need to wear earrings? No, that would be too suggestive and that would certainly push some boundaries that I shouldn’t be pushing. I already guessed a sort-of attraction to begin with from him. I thought it was a little silly of someone like him to be attracted to someone like me. But still, it felt nice. It felt nice to be the source of someone’s supposed interest. I never had that with the boys my age. They were all interested in the skinnier girls, girls with slimmer faces and taller figures. The girls who were light haired and light skinned.   
It felt nice.  
So after delivering the food upstairs on the dumbwaiter, I followed shortly, trying not to step on my heels too loudly. I was already so self-aware. Glorfindel greeted me, dressed sharper than I had ever seen him, in neatly rested clothes, his soldier cap under his arm, watching me as I walked past him, studiously ignoring him. I could always feel him looking at him. What woman wouldn’t feel a man like that looking at them?  
Once the table was ready, I allowed him to gently push me in and he took his seat across from me. We quietly supped on mutton, Parisian potatoes, and butternut squash. I occasionally looked up, only to find that he was only looking at his food. In my mind, the silence was either unbearable or awkward. I kept trying to discreetly wipe my lipstick from my water glass, but I was just so parched.   
Then came dessert and just as promised, so did the chocolate cake. I was pleased with how it turned out. I decorated it nicely with berries and cream. It was small enough for two people for two days only. I was glad for that, so it didn’t last and besides, my cooler box didn’t work that well.   
“Since the chef baked it and helped clear the table,” Glorfindel began, rising as I was just about to cut into the cake, “I will serve it. Please, sit.”  
I stared at him blankly, not comprehending until he gently took the serving knife from me. I let him have it, a little shocked that he would do this. Usually, I served. It was not in question. I served everyone their meals. Jan wouldn’t lift a finger to help. What was this man playing with?  
“Alright,” I forced myself to sit back down and then I rose again just as quickly. “Water,” I squeaked when he looked at me. I hurried away without a by-your-leave. I found the pitcher of water that I kept on the dumbwaiter and when I walked back, he had already served me a cake.   
“Thank you,” I whispered, sitting back down, hesitant.  
I munched slowly on my cake, occasionally glancing at the Lieutenant. What was he thinking? Does he realize how awkward it was to sit next to a woman, who was practically divorced now, seemingly unattached? When I considered it, despite the mixed signals, in the bigger picture, there was no way he would ever consider me as a potential prospect for a lover. I was a little too ruined and my body was a hideous mural of fading bruises and welts that were slowly and painfully healing.  
Not to mention, he knew about how Jan whipped me, how he beat me senseless, how sometimes he wore his rings and beat me on the stomach, or slapped me on the mouth, so then I would have to put lipstick on and make it look like I accidentally smudged it. This stranger knew about how Jan raped me nearly every night, right after he beat me. He knew. He knew about all this. Was he not going to...treat me any differently? Not that I wanted him to.   
“Your husband was a fucktard to not appreciate you,” Glorfindel informed me after we were done munching on our cakes. I looked up at him, surprised that he would address it so bluntly, and so coincidentally in line with my thoughts. I should have seen this coming sooner. He was terribly blunt and preceptive.   
I set my fork down. What did he expect me to say?  
“I suppose we just were not compatible,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my wine, not meeting his gaze. I hated how dull and dumb I sounded when I said that. I wish i could have agreed with him, screamed, or even cried. I hated to be so emotionless. But I suppose it was for the better. How else would I maintain dignity in front of a man like this?  
“Compatibility has nothing to do with it,” he almost snarled, his eyes flaring, as though I personally offended him by suggesting the issue of compatibility. I glanced up at him and looked away once more. He was watching me intensely, his gaze fiery. “No man would do to his wife what that pig did to you.”  
“Jan was not every man,” I told him, wishing this conversation would end. I hated thinking about Jan. But I still had an obligation to not speak ill of him because technically, we were not divorced.  
“If you were my wife,” he began and I looked up at him in shock, my jaw dropping at his audacity, “I would love you in every way I could. I would never lay a hand on you.”  
“Even if your wife couldn’t…?” I trailed off, I didn’t mean to get heated about the ‘what ifs’. But I did. Glorfindel looked me in the eyes, his face hard, his eyes burning.  
“Even if she couldn’t,” he understood the implications of my question. I looked away, my heart pounding. Too many implications were happening, too soon. Too many implications that were not supposed to happen were happening. I could feel my breaths shorten and my gaze stray anywhere but the man himself.  
“That doesn’t matter,” I said dismissively, getting up. He got up at the same time I did, unfurling himself to his alarming height. Not for the first time, his height left me awestruck.   
I shook my head and turned to walk outside of the door. I felt him grip my arm to stop me. It was a gentle grip but it frightened me. I yelped, leaping away from him.  
His eyes were wide as he stared at me, looking apologetic; “Sorry.”  
“What do you want?” I asked him coldly. He took one more step towards me and before I could think, he had swooped down and pressed his lips to mine.   
He kissed me once, twice, a third time, and I finally responded. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of his lips against mine. It felt wonderful, especially how soft they were. I shuddered and felt myself melt against him. His arms gripped my waist, stroking me. It all felt surreal. All of a sudden, the tension, the hurt, the humiliation , every negative thing of the past few days flew past me and all I could think about was how wonderful that kiss was. But then I pulled away. The heat that pooled in my belly was painful and unfamiliar. It wasn’t unbearable but it frightened me.  
“It hurts,” I whimpered, staring at his chest, getting down from the tips of my toes. I stepped back away from him, wringing my hands. What hurt? I felt silly for saying that aloud in the middle of a tall, handsome, and grown man kissing me like in the movies.  
“Where?” he murmured, kissing the crown of my head, his hands stroking my face, my waist. He didn’t stop touching me and I didn’t want him to, but the heat was building up.  
“I don’t know,” I whimpered looking at him pleadingly. His eyes, soft for me, shined with understanding. He knew how to help me.   
“Come,” he coaxed me, holding my hand and walking with me upstairs. I wasn’t sure where he was leading me but I trusted him. He was leading me to his office. When he led me inside, he closed the door, but not completely, leaving only a little crack. Then he sat down in his armchair and looked at me patiently while I stood there, unsure of what to do.   
“Come here,” he coaxed me. I stepped towards him hesitantly, close enough so that our knees touch. With a guiding hand to my waist, he maneuvered me on his lap, one muscular and powerful thigh between my own thighs. The pressure there was glorious but it felt filthy, excitingly so. I didn’t say anything.  
“Do you trust me?” he murmured wordlessly. I thought about for a second and then nodded. So far he hadn’t given me a reason not to.   
“We can stop any time you like,” he told me, his gaze profoundly sharp at that. “Anything you don’t like, tell me. Anything you like, tell me also.”  
I nodded, staring at him, starstruck by his beauty. He hummed, seemingly pleased with the answer. He leaned forward and kissed me. I kissed him back but all of a sudden, he raised his thigh, and me with it. The pressure, how good it felt, nearly made me swoon. I whimpered against his mouth.   
“Does that feel better?” he murmured. The heat itself kept building up, to which point, I wasn’t certain. But the pressure was glorious.  
“Yes,” I murmured breathily, pulling away and watching his face. His hands gripped my waist and pressed me down against his rock hard thigh, coiled with muscle. I cried out, throwing my head back. He was grinding me against his thigh and I nearly passed out from how good it felt.   
Andd then I threw my head back and screamed. Actually screamed. Not like a pained scream. I didn’t recognize my own voice, or the sounds I was making. I only knew, that they were different, and they didn’t come out for simply anybody.  
He dragged me up and let me crash, as if I was falling from a thousand feet.   
And when I opened my eyes again, I could see his face flushed before me, his eyes heated and dark.  
“Again?” He asked, rising, and lifting me up with him, so that my legs were wrapped around his waist. I could feel a ‘no’ building up in my throat, but then I felt him grind his hips into my center and a sound that might have been ‘yes’ oozed lazily from my throat.   
It would be silly to say no, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues and boundaries are tested.

After my little tryst with the American, I barely saw him again. I had woken up the next morning, sore and lazy, and slowly burning for more. He had taken me then, again and again until I slept again and didn’t wake for another hour. After, I had prepared lunch because it was already past breakfast. Afterwards, I revisited my old school, where I taught arithmetic. No one was there, it was now an army compound. When will it be reinstated as a school? When will I be able to teach again and earn money?

And this was how it was for an entire week. Whenever we were both in the same room, in our little corner of privacy, having finished our duties and regulations, Glorfindel would instigate the love making. He took me slow and long. He would murmur to me in his language and it would make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Then afterwards, still reeling from the thrill and the lack of shame of my liberation and fornication, I would walk in the village, taking guilty, immense pleasure at how untouchable I felt. How liberated, how loved.

But then that week ended far too quickly. I wasn’t even aware I only had a week of happiness unlike that I have ever felt since I was married. It was a woman’s happiness, not a little girl’s happiness at being praised for her toy, or her embroidery skills. It was the happiness of a woman who felt the pleasures that the Whore of Babel could never dream of having. It was the happiness of a woman who escaped the clutches of fate. A woman whose pleasure was given to her by a man with the body of a god and the mind of a scholar. Just thinking about him made me flustered. And then that was all he was, just a thought. He barely came again and I never heard anything about him which disappointed me more than I could say.

My mother had come to visit me, which was surprising because she never did so before when Jan was here. It was a good distraction as well I suppose. It was a good distraction from my disappointments and aches. I suppose it was also a good disappointment. It meant that my reputation was no longer under fire from living alone, in a spacious mansion, with an american.That also meant I barely saw Glorfindel, even when he was in the house at any point in time because I was busy with my mother, and I was so disappointed with that. My heart raced at the thought of him and I felt silly for my attachment. But what else do you call that?

After he had turned my world upside down with a crude welcome, he had taken me to his bed and blew my mind several times. He was assured me firmly, once only, that should I ask him to stop, and at any point, he will, even swearing upon his honor. But I never wanted him to stop. I didn’t know how to urge him because he was so slow. He was so gentle, even though his body didn’t look gentle, it was hard and intensely sculpted. He had given me the same pleasure in so many different ways, each more intense than the last. He was a skilled lover and I was under no illusion that he didn’t make due with others before me. The idea that I might have been a conquest was not hard to entertain, but a difficult morsel to swallow. After all, despite him being the hero I had sorely needed yet denied my self, he was still American.

But he didn’t act like the rest of his American comrades did. He was not loud and lewd. He was not brash or a hopeless flirt. He was a disciplined man, patient, and worked with an analytical view of the world. I didn’t take him as a thoughtless person; he was austere for sure. But when he...gave me all that, he seemed normal. His face was flushed, his pupils were dilated. He was human. Everything about him was beautiful at that moment. But that moment happened once, and never again. 

“Why have you come now?” I asked my mother after I prepared for her a hot broth. I was technically not allowed to use the army-provided food for my own use. I was allowed to share in it with the soldier (it was a grey area) but I was not allowed to technically eat it on my own. The quartermaster always made sure to stress that, embarrassing me every single time he came to deliver the groceries. So for a while, I had been depending on the food from my garden. I couldn’t afford to eat any meat with the way I have been economizing after Jan’s arrest and detainment to Nuremberg.

He never returned and I never heard from him again.Eventually, Jan Heydreich faded into a distant nightmare. But the pain of his hurts would always loom over me like a shadow.

My mother regarded me, her face etched with worry. She was a poor keeper of her own secrets; “I couldn’t leave you alone with that American man. You would be ruined.”

I already was, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I nodded gravely, I already guessed that answer. It was nice to hear it from her. I didn’t want anyone from the village to ostracize me for my association with the American. I barely had a friend in him, despite our week in bliss. 

“Thank you,” I said instead.

“I put in a request for a placement change for myself,” she told me, “Because you are hosting an American, you are not allowed to move. But I was allowed. I have my letter here. No one can complain, I went through the proper channel.”

She showed me an official-looking paper that she fished out of her purse. I looked at it and nodded. I didn’t want my own mother to show me proof. I just wanted her here with me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I murmured, sitting down next to her and giving her frail hand a squeeze, smiling. “I’m just glad you are here. I have been terribly lonely, the American barely ever comes to the house and the walk to the village is far. I cannot do it every day.”

For many hours, we talked endlessly, getting up, here and there, to do what we needed to do. I prepared supper, and we spoke. We spoke about many things. We spoke about how I peeled my potatoes, how to fix my silk stockings, and even how to wash my cutlery properly. Then we spoke about the new laws regarding the fraternization of German girls and Allied soldiers. I guiltily avoided putting too much input for the topic. We spoke about the rumors of the concentration camps, where the Jews, homosexuals, Catholics, and the undesirables of the German empire were held.

That, in particular, was an interesting topic for me. I remember we had a few Jewish families living in our community. I had completely forgotten about them until recently. I was told they moved away. But now, I can see that is not true. Once again, the Reign of Adolf Hitler sickened me. I sickened myself for ever believing that he was good. I saw the pictures in the Allied-controlled news papers. I saw what those walking-skeletons looked like. I saw the prisoner of war camps...I was appalled. Was there no standard of care in the efficient German army? What purpose did they have by starving and mistreating them? I understood that there was propaganda against the jews an I assumed that the jews moved away to find somewhere else to live, so that they did not impose on us. But I didn’t think that the propaganda was simply to capture jews and kill them.The reign of Adolf Hitler was supposed to be peaceful--we were all supposed to flourish. But it seemed that in the end, in some way or another, to some extent, everyone got their own scars from this war. I expressed those thoughts to my mother and she only shrugged helplessly at that before switching topics. She hated lingering on politics, it wasn’t her manner and I was raised similarly. 

The topic of Jan was consistently avoided. I didn’t want to speak about him. He was not worth my worry. Some of my bruises didn’t fade still. I never took off my ring though. Any moment, anyone could drop by and question the absence of it. So the cool piece of gold stayed on my finger at all times. I think that my mother was not aware of Jan’s mistreatment of me and I planned on keeping it that way. I didn’t want her to regret giving her blessing, and blaming my father, which would sour their tranquility, that they never had in the years previous. I simply forced Jan into a distant memory. And that was the end of my devotion to him.

I heard and read the stories about the poor reception of the Allied Occupation in Germany. I read about a multiple homicide of an American Soldier and a German girl, who was thought to have close relations with him, in Cologne. I read how, in retaliation against the German drunks who did it, the Allied soldiers stripped them all naked and publicly shot them. I never wanted that to happen to me and the more I read about those stories in the newspaper, the less of the American I thought. Or forced myself to think. 

I didn’t want to be so desperate for love that I’d get shot over it. I already had a sample of it (I won’t lie and say I didn’t want any more) and for now, I would have to content myself with that. God-willing, I would soon have another chance at love, a quiet, peaceful life with a good, German husband. Someone who was not controversial, someone who I wouldn’t get beaten to death over, someone who wouldn’t beat me to death. A farmer, or a welder, or even a grocer. But most importantly, someone who can accept the possibility of never having children.

That night, for dinner, Glorfindel came. Beforehand, he had sent me a telegram, through a foot soldier: a short boy, maybe a couple of years younger, informing me to make provisions for a guest. I had told my mother about it and she nodded quietly.

“Alright,” she told me as if she had a say in it. He was being polite by sending me a telegram. By no means did he have to do that. I was always expected to be ready. “Can you spare an extra set of porcelain?”

I nodded grimly; “But I didn’t make enough food, the telegram came a little too late. There is no time. I will just prepare something else for both of us afterward. Just don’t eat too much of the food.”

She nodded and we loaded the food in the dumbwaiter. After setting up the table upstairs, I escorted my mother to my rooms where she searched through her bag for her dinner dress. She wore a black dress, applying sharp red lipstick and styling her hair in a coiffure. She gave an austere look that she reserved for strangers and Americans. As for me, I didn’t own anything black and I don’t think I could have afforded to buy myself anything. So I went with my dark mauve dress and black heels, putting on red lipstick.

“You should not entice them," my mother warned me, eyeing my lips with disapproval.

“You’re wearing red too,” I found it a little unreasonable.

“I am old,” she said flatly, “Who would look at me? You are young and beautiful.”

She didn’t look as old as she actually was. In her late fifties, she looked in her early forties. Her skin was tight on her face, her jaw was sharp and her eyes were wide and vibrant. The only signs of her age were her laugh lines and the rings of folding skin on her neck. Otherwise, she held herself with the virility of a woman like me, in my late teens. Reluctantly, I wiped my red lipstick off.

When we received Glorfindel and his guest, I was surprised. I thought the guest would be old and bald, a higher ranking general. But no. It was a young man, just as tall as Glorfindel, with the same ears. They looked completely different, yet that man had the same, strange ears that repulsed me in the beginning. Yet the man had black hair and piercing gray eyes, sharp as an eagle’s. 

“This is Lieutenant Ecthelion Springvand, my second in command,” Glorfindel introduced us. “Lieutenant, this is the hostess of the manor, Lady Elisabet Heydrich and her mother, Lady Sabine Wolfgang.” 

“Pleasure,” I said demurely, not reaching out because the Lieutenant didn’t. He merely nodded coolly at the both of us.

“Pleasure,” my mother echoed, not sounding as benign as the word she spoke sounded.

“It is a special dinner tonight,” I said apologetically, “I hope it does not disrupt your dietary plans.”

“Anything will be fine,” Glorfindel told me, not looking at me, but instead, he was looking at his Lieutenant, who didn’t look at anyone. 

“Anything the hostess makes will be delightful, I am sure,” the Lt. said, his voice deep, not dissimilar to his Superior. Were they brothers? Their ears, height, and sheer size told me yes. But their coloring told me no. So far, there was no verbally implied relation.

“This way, please,” I gestured to the dining room.

“This is very comely,” Glorfindel commented kindly from behind me as my mother and the Lt. walked past us. I might have imagined it but...no, it was silly. But the burning feeling where the ghost of his hand touched me made goosebumps rise on my arms. I swallowed, trying to regain control over myself. I was so sure I would not be affected by him but something he might have done by pure accident literally reduced me to a puddle of warm pudding. With shaking knees that I hoped no one noticed and a racing heart, I began serving the food. My mother sat silently by me. I had given her protocol to avoid confusion. She was to literally sit and do nothing. I had to do everything because it might cause confusion and embarrassment. I already felt so clumsy. My lips felt so bare without my red lipstick.

I had neatly cut the meat pie beforehand and now, all that was left was to gracefully lift it on a plate. To each man, I served two large slices. To my mother and I, I served one small slice each. Next, to the meat pie, I served boiled and broiled vegetables and then I served some tea in teacups with it. I didn’t have wine for the sake of prohibition. I know Jan’s study had an entire cabinet stocked with all sorts of alcohol, including soviet-imported vodka. 

“Please, sit,” Glorfindel told me. My hay-wired nerves forced myself to release the teapot I was holding to serve myself tea. I sat down politely, feeling incredibly stupid. I was too busy bustling around them. I flushed with embarrassment. But then I was surprised when all of a sudden, Lt.Glorfindel got up, reaching out and taking the teapot, elegantly serving me the tea. I stared at him, shocked that he would do something so menial for me. He didn’t have to, I would just take my tea after.

“Thank you,” I said anyways. I glanced at my mother, who looked at her plate, unmoving.

The meat pie felt too dry and too soggy at the same time. It felt stale and the vegetables were not broiled enough...or perhaps broiled too much. I was picking out faults and I didn’t know why. I was an excellent cook, and even if I wasn’t, I followed the recipe word for word. I felt as though my teeth had all sorts of food stuck in between, I felt as though my hair would fall out of its roll any minute now. There were so many insecurities. I looked at my mother to see if she was as frumpled and discombobulated as I was but she was as cool as a cucumber and I felt even worse. Everyone looked too calm and collected and I was feeling so anxious. How could one touch, one look, one considerate gesture, unnerve me so?

“Will you be staying the night?” I asked suddenly, stupidly. I heard my mother’s spoon clatter and I winced with embarrassment. I somehow managed to ruin the quiet but awkward atmosphere and make it even more awkward. I wanted to apologize but that wouldn’t embarrass anyone but myself and my mother. Instead, Glorfindel looked on at me patiently and shook his head.

“No,” It was Ecthelion who spoke, “It would not do to impose on your generosity. I have my living quarters elsewhere.”

I nodded mutely. He spoke German just as well as Glorfindel. 

“Oh,” I said in a small voice, looking back at my plate. I looked at my mother but she only gave me a small smile in assurance. Maybe it wasn’t so bad?

After dinner, I was too unnerved to eat but I made my mother a sandwich. But after, I ate half of it because she insisted. 

“I set up a room for you,” I informed her, “It’s not much. It was a storage room before but I managed to clean it up and move some of the things out. There are many things that I threw out and other things I am hoping to sell.”

“It should do fine,” My mother assured me.

“I washed the sheets and cleaned the wall. If it smells musty, you can have my room instead,” I offered. She only smiled at me and said no more.

I finished my glass of warm water and wrapped my shawl tighter around myself. For Glorfindel’s rooms, I always made sure he was stocked on wood and lamp oil, but it was too expensive to maintain. I had no income now that Jan was gone and I was not sure I was going to receive his inheritance. I sold as much as I was able to in our poor economy. Gold and silver were now worthless. But according to the new law, I had to accommodate the soldier as best as I was able to and the standard had been set by the law itself. The quarters he was given should always have sufficient heating. Just because he had given me the wonderful gift of knowing pleasure didn’t mean he could make it easier for me. He knew nothing of my complaints and struggles. He didn’t actively make my life harder but his existence in Germany did.

That night in my room, I stared dolefully at the canopy of my bed. In my heart, I prayed for an easier life. I was aware that my struggles were nothing in comparison to some families. I knew that but still...I just wished. I wanted to be warm, I wanted to find love in someone who could protect me and provide for me. I had no credentials to call my own. I only had a teaching degree, acquired from a sketchy administration building in downtown, in German and arithmetics. Right now however, no one could afford school and they already had teachers and the school was nearly closed down anyways. My mother’s presence in this house was going to make it harder to spend or be fulfilled. I know that my father already had a job as a stable bank manager. But it was not his duty to provide for me. He promised to send me a meager check every two weeks since Jan’s arrest. 

I was not at liberty to complain. Sofie had a provider. I had an American and a mother. I was not allowed to eat the food that was provided by the army, only to share in it during meal times. It embarrassed me to eat that food though. If I wasn’t allowed then I shouldn’t eat. So often times, I only ate the soup at meal times. It was the only thing I made sure to make from my own supply. I explained those conditions thoroughly to my mother and she merely nodded at me. At mealtimes, I would eat my soup, feigning fulfillment before making myself a sandwich of canned bread and canned sausage, with some condiment vegetables from my garden, after Glorfindel had retired. 

“I won’t stay too long,” My mother told me after another month of her stay. I softly approached the subject and ever the understanding person, my mother took it with grace. “I just had to make sure you are alright.”

“I am fine. I will be fine. I just...it is easier for the both of us if you live with father. I already cannot afford the canned food. It strains my resources and I have no source of income but the two dollars every two weeks from father. It will be easier for you to live with father. He has income,” I said regrettably. I didn’t mean to kick her out but the cupboard I had stocked for us was meager and I always went to bed so hungry I would barely sleep. I had stopped taking my meals with the American because the sight of his rich food that I didn’t allow myself to partake in depressed me. It already depressed me enough when I cooked it. 

She gave me a sad little smile, “I know. I am sorry, I hadn’t thought this through properly.”

“I love you,” I told her honestly, getting emotional at the thought of her absence. “I want you to stay with me but…”

“I know, my love,” she told me, kissing me on the cheek and for a while, we settled in the library, saying nothing. I had to take to burning the Nazi-propaganda books that Jan had accumulated over the years to burn instead of logs, which were expensive and strenuous to acquire. I never lifted an axe in my life and buying them for a meager tenner would set me back another week on my bread rations. She nodded, kissing my cheek and a week later, she left. 

I felt my mother’s absence more strongly than I cared to admit and once again, I was alone in the world.

*~*~*

At my mother’s departure, my father cut the income by an entire dollar. My knees nearly shook at the amount of that. Inflation in Germany was on the rise. I was unemployed and I lived on an income that fed rats better than me. I never took my father for being selfish and I didn’t want to ask him for more because he had explicitly expressed that he would never give anything more. 

But I was cut off from that thought when anotheramerican soldier arrived with a telegram. My mood soured at the sight of him. Those telegrams always seemed to be making my life harder and I didn’t think I was going to be different this time. 

Indeed, I was right.

_ Another officer requisitioned (stop) Heydrich Manor (stop) Make accommodations (stop) October 13th, 1945 (stop) _

_ US Army (stop) _

I pressed my hands to my lips and I screamed in my head. I looked at the soldier grimly who simply saluted and walked off. I closed the door behind him and leaned my weight on it for a semblance of support. The workload was unreal. I always seemed to be constantly cleaning the place. The manor was far too large and dusted easily and now I had someone else coming in. I felt my knees collapse beneath me and I fell heavily to the ground, sobbing. My feet and back ached. I just wanted to live somewhere else. Somehow, even without Jan, my life managed to be harder. My guess was that I only had one week of bliss, and a lifetime of pain ahead of me to compensate for what I clearly did not deserve but received, in a very small quantity nonetheless.

I began cleaning out our last spare guest room where my mother originally stayed. it was far too close to me but my door had a lock to it and only I had a copy of the key to my room. I should be safe, I suppose. I heard stories from my other friends at church, that sometimes, their american soldiers entered their rooms without permission--how they rued not having locks on their doors.

But by then I was so exhausted I could barely think straight. I looked down at the fur skin rug I managed to salvage from the study and settled on it. It was so warm...I put my head on it and went to sleep.

*~*~*

“Wake up,” it was a voice, stern but panicked, shaking me roughly. I just needed a few more minutes of sleep.

“No,” I murmured stubbornly, shaking the hand off. A hand gripped my arm and the warmth of it shocked me to consciousness. I opened my eyes groggily, my eyes taking in the dimly lit room. I felt two strong arms come beneath me and lift me up, seemingly miles in the air. I whimpered in alarm but when they jostled me closer to a solid wall, I felt stable.

“How long have you been there?” It was Glorfindel. I opened my eyes and saw him looking straight through the ceiling above me was moving and I closed my eyes again.

When I woke up again, I was incredibly warm. Warmer than I had ever been and I was under mounds of blankets. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in a faintly familiar room, not mine. It was the blue room that I had given the American. I shot up but a hand pushed me down. 

“Don’t,” his voice was sharp and he was looking at me, something akin to disapproval in his eyes. He was holding a bowl of something that smelled so good that I turned my face away from him to try and avoid smelling it. “Look at me, woman.”

“I want to go back to my room,” I pouted making to get off the bed but he roughly pulled me back nearly toppling me over him.

“When the world ends you may,” he informed me curtly, “Eat this before I feed it to you myself.”

He took my hands and forced the bowl in them. It was warm but not enough to burn me. 

“What are you doing?” I was scandalized. I didn’t want to be in his room. I had another room to clean out and I was still put out by how he ignored me for the better part of a month.

“Making sure you don’t kill yourself,” he told me bluntly. “I found you passed out on the floor.”

“I was only resting,” I gave him an incredulous look, forcing a chuckle at the seemingly absurd statement. I wasn’t sure if I passed out or willingly went to sleep. But I wasn’t going to admit that.

He looked me dead in the eyes, and growled out one command; “Eat.”

So I obeyed and I almost swooned at how good the solid food felt in my tummy. It was a ground beef with tomato sauce dish and kidney beans. It was a little spicy but it tasted so good on the rice. The bowl was delightfully heavy in my hands but I only ate just a little bit at a time so I don’t feel like a savage and so I don’t get hungry again.

“Does that feel better?” he asked me when I finished my last spoon. I swallowed and nodded.

“It tastes good,” I said, “Did you make it?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. I didn’t mean to be difficult with him and I certainly didn’t mean to be weak in front of him. I tried so hard to hide my struggles and not get in the way of his work. 

“When did you come back?” I murmured.

“A few hours ago,” he told me shortly, taking the bowl from me and watching me. I swallowed slightly and began to move out of the bed, hoping he didn’t pull me back. 

But he did anyways. This time, he settled me on his lap.

“Stop treating me like a rag doll,” I told him crossly, slapping his chest. He bared his teeth at me in annoyance and I recoiled. But his hands on the small of my back forced me closer to him.

“You weigh a little more than one,” he told me, “Why have you not been eating?”

I stared at him, wondering how to answer that question. I wasn’t allowed to eat so I couldn’t ‘share’ his food? My garden doesn’t replenish itself daily? I only have a dollar every two weeks for allowance? All of them seemed pathetic so I only settled for; 

“I wasn’t hungry,” I told him. That was the fattest lie I ever said in my life. I was in a perpetual state of starvation and exhaustion. 

“Lie to me one more time and I will put you over my knee,” he growled lowly and I stared at him, wondering if he was being serious. He wouldn’t hit me...surely? My eyes thought back to his large, powerful hands. One strike from him would be equivalent to a thousand punches from Jan. I felt fear spike in my heart. It drove me mad.

In one move, I pushed myself away from him. “Let me go!”

But he held fast, bringing me so close to him that I felt his breath fanning my face. He seemed to realize his poor choice in words; “I won’t touch you like that, I promise.” 

His tone was placating but the threat he had given me bounced back. “I want to leave. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“No,” he agreed, “But you are under my protection. How will it look if you starve to death?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped.

“Answer the question Elisabet,” he murmured, patience straining in his tone and I glared at him.

“I can’t afford food,” I laughed hysterically at how thick he was. “I...my garden can only provide so much! Now in the winter, it is useless!”

“You can’t afford food?” He looked at me incredulously, “You have an entire kitchen full of it!”

“It is your food,” was he really that thick? 

“And I am giving it to you,” he told me patiently.

“I don’t want your charity,” I spat, my ire increasing.

“I am not offering you my charity,” he snarled, gripping my face between both his hands, holding me in place. “I am paying you back for accommodating me.”

That sounded reasonable. I stared at him, trying to find guile in his face.

“Take your meals with me,” he implored me, “Eat. Have your pick. I don’t care, I don’t want to have to feel your ribs.”

“My ribs?” I echoed dumbly and I felt his hand come up under my breast and I fell silent at how intimate the contact felt.

“Alright,” I squeaked when I could no longer look in his eye. He didn’t answer my remark but when I made to move away from him, my muscles didn’t move.

Then he kissed me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newcomer arrives and with him, unpleasantness.

October came quickly, and with it, the officer that had been requisitioned at my house. The officer in question was a short man, even shorter than me. He had a charming little smile on his otherwise plain face. His features were startlingly standard of the Western elk and he had a neat appearance, if a rather unimpressive bearing. He was extremely polite and he was infinitely more talkative than the Lt. General. His presence was surprisingly unremarkable for having a higher rank than Glorfindel (he was not in the army). His title was Chief Translator of the League of United Nations, Simmons Fitzgerald. That was how he introduced himself.

He was a polite man. I didn’t feel particularly threatened by him and for all his importance, he was not a particularly memorable person. But in the later weeks of his stay, his true nature unfolded.

It was in the little things. He would politely ask me to go down an re-shine the cutlery while I was in the middle of chewing. He would make me go down for more butter or more water. He would come down to the kitchen while I cooked and sometimes point out little details that needed attention to. At first, it was frustrating. But then it got a little more intimidating when he stopped asking and began ordering me to do it. 

Then came in the lewd remarks. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t foresee it the moment I began to suspect his true nature. Those were made in Glorfindel’s absence, unsurprisingly enough. When he first made them, I wasn’t able to dismiss them as poorly translated because he was a translator. He spoke German better than I did, me, a native to my own country.

But one of his remarks that really struck an impression on me was;

“You have been a domestic wife, yes? It is too bad your husband is not here to appreciate it. But I will.”

It was bold and it booked no room for misunderstanding. I had recoiled from him. He had said it in such a way that it was so casual, I nearly did not comprehend it. But after he left, I had sunk to my knees, taking in a deep breath and shuddering. I did not need him to unnerve me right now. I was too busy and dinner was in one hour.

The entire supper was perhaps my most awkward supper. Glorfindel sat before me, and Chief Translator Simmons at the head of the table. I stared at Glorfindel the entire time, hoping he would read my mind, hoping that he would do something about that satanic man who ate so neatly at the head of the table. Glorfindel’s mouth tightened upon noticing the frightened, pointed glances I kept shooting at Simmons’ way. But our contact was lost when Simmons spoke, not looking up from his plate.

“I reviewed the layout of your manor, Mrs. Heydrich, and I happened to notice that you, a common Kraut, live in a more luxurious and spacious room than I, the Chief Translator. And I ask myself, why is that? Perhaps you misunderstood the order of power in the house.”

I stared at the man, speechless and appalled. From my peripheral vision, I could see Glorfindel frowning at the audacious man. My room was mine before he even entered the country. No one said anything about me giving up my room. No one had complained about it but he was making an issue out of it.  _ A common Kraut _ ? How rude could he possibly be? 

“It is my room, this house is my inheritance,” I dearly hoped it was.

“You are wrong on that count, my dear,” he said, setting his spoon down with a clatter, I could see a little vein throbbing at his temple, his visage otherwise calm. My heart leapt. This man was insane. “While your house is requisitioned by the victorious army, your inheritance is worthless. Your clothes, your earrings, your brassieres, everything, is now property of the Allied Armies.”

I felt my eyes tearing up at how terrifying, how cruel, and how disturbing this man is. His words made my shoulders fold in on themselves. I wanted to disappear. 

“You, as a person, are worthless,” he continued mercilessly, calmly, ignoring Glorfindel's warning looks. “What use does a great, victorious army need for a woman who did not fulfill her biological purpose? You failed at the only thing that you were born to do and now you are but a mere maid in your former house, and just as useless.”

I burst into tears, ugly sobs. I wasn’t sure why he was being so cruel. I buried my face in my hands, the humiliation, the hurt, anger, all of it, burning deep within me. How could one human speak to another like that? How could he say such cruel things? His words hurt even more than Jan’s fists because these were my thoughts. Hearing someone say it to my face devastated me. 

“Honorable Simmons,” Glorfindel's voice was low, noncommittal. I couldn't look up, my muscles paralyzed with fear and humiliation. “There is no need for this. Simply ask her to move her possessions and she will do so.”

“She only needed to learn her place,” Simmons said casually, giving a sickening smile to me. I couldn't look away from the sadism that was drawn all over his face, “She needed to know that she has outlived her usefulness and it is by my mercy that she has not been otherwise removed. You should not get involved, Lieutenant General. It is not your place nor station.”

I fell silent at such a threat and revelation. He didn’t even bother to say that in English, where I couldn’t understand him. He was a cruel man, sadistic and twisted. He was dangerous and I wanted to leave this wretched place. He can have the whole house for all I care.

“You are wrong,” Glorfindel finally said and my head shot up in alarm. He didn’t need to go against his superior! That was the most dangerous thing he could ever do. He didn't have to do it for me. I understood the bureaucracy of the military well enough, he was playing a dangerous game here. But Glorfindel was leaned back casually against his seat, watching the translator with a cool gaze. “You are not the most powerful person here. You do not get to decide the usefulness of the citizens. I am Lieutenant General Prince Glorfindel Laurefindel, Duke of Gondolin and Prince of Valinor. I am leading this army with an American citizenship, but I am leading the War Council with the voice and presence of a Prince.”

He was revealing all those things about himself, things that I never knew of before. Suddenly, everything about him made sense, his grace, his eloquence, the way he spoke, the way he acted...all of it was princely. That and his ring. I always thought it was a fancy looking seal of a ring, with some coloring on it. But it wasn’t just some coloring. It was a flag. I heard about Gondolin and Valinor. Gondolin was an islandic province of Valinor, one of the richest, most powerful countries on Earth next to the British Empire. It boasted of Beleriand, a large land mass, rich with fertile soil, precious stones, and gold, under its flag. It was untouchable, it was unmatched, even if it was not the greatest empire. It was relatively benign since I know it was not actively involved in the war. Although many of the war supplies came from Beleriand. But its Duke apparently was involved and no one knew.

“Your title in the army is purely titular,” Prince Glorfindel continued airily, twirling his fork. I looked at the translator, who had turned pale, his eyes wide and staring at the Prince. “I suggest you keep that in mind the next time you presume to threaten and displace the hostess of this house. Requisitionment does not equate to displacement, that is something that should have been heavily impressed before your arrival here. We are not our soviet cousins.”

“Now, I suggest you apologize to Mrs. Heydrich,” Prince Glorfindel said and automatically, immediately, Simmons rose to his feet and turned to me. He bowed low with a stiff; “My apologies, Mrs. Heydrich,” and sat down again, his neck turning purple. 

“That is good. I had hoped not to use my title for this. But I was left with no choice, I do hope you understand,” Glorfindel said casually. I was staring at Glorfindel with a newfound light. He was once again, my saviour. But he always seemed to be a witness to my humiliation, my pain, and my hurt. Always, always. But he always saved me from it. Always, always.

“Now, let us please enjoy our dinner and afterwards, Mrs. Heydrich, I will speak with you,” Prince Glorfindel said curtly. The dinner settled into an awkward silence once more, the only sounds were me sniffing and the cutlery moving. But Simmons was no longer calm and jovial. He was now pale and blank-faced. I already knew, in my heart, that he would not let such a slight go but for this moment, I was content with his silence. 

I wiped away my tears and beneath the table, I extended my foot, my foot touching Glorfindel’s leather boot. I knew it was his because the moment my foot touched him, his leg moved. He looked at me and I gave him a grateful, teary smile. I felt my heart pound and my belly flood with heat.

Prince Glorfindel spoke once more before I got up from my seat after finishing my last morsel. “Mrs. Heydrich, you will switch rooms with Honorable Simmons tonight. I suggest you start now. You have till twelve,” he said and I nodded.

I understood why Glorfindel told me that in front of Simmons. It was self-preservation against this man, who in his humiliation, was even more dangerous. I understood. But it was so much kinder, coming from Glorfindel, even though his tone was purposely unkind. I glanced at Simmons and saw his color return, he was placated.

“Yes sir,” I murmured, unable to help my displeasure anyways.

“Your Grace,” Glorfindel corrected me, an apologetic gleam in his otherwise stoic face.

“Your Grace,” I repeated.

*~*~*

It had taken me nearly four hours to fully move away all my possessions in my room: my clothes, my jewellery, toiletry, linens, makeup, books, bags, pillows, perfumes, boxes, safes, papers, my kits, my medicines, my China, my phonogram, and basically everything that I could get my hands on until finally, there was not even the dust that had settled. He was not going to get a single thing from me. The furniture I couldn't very well move. But what I could carry, I did.

Simmons had made sure to pack all belongings in boxes. He was ready to move. And he did. He had kept them outside of my rooms and the moment I finished, he came and took away his boxes, entering the room without so much as another glance at me. He slammed his door shut and I did not see him for the rest of the night. 

When I turned to go back to the guest room, I placed everything neatly, put the bed together cleaned out the room and let the windows open from the stuffiness. the cool breeze made me shiver because I was wet from my own sweat. Afterwards, I went to the bathroom down below, carrying my toiletries, my towels, and my change of clothes, along with the set of manor keys I never went without. 

I was exhausted, I was filthy, and I was brewing with annoyance. This man could have very well being requisitioned at a farmhouse. He didn't have a lot of options but he acted like he did. There is only so much I could do to accommodate such a spoiled and privileged man. 

So I locked the bathroom door and filled the tub with water. I didn't have a boiler so I had to bathe in the cold water. That and the air itself was cold because that washroom was in the basement. It is the only place I could think of where Simmons didn't frequent often. While the tub filled up, I brushed my teeth and hair.

A while later, a knock on my bathroom door made me look up in alarm. My door was locked but I certainly wasn’t going to open it.

“Occupied,” I called nervously washing off the last of the soap from my body.

“It’s me,” Prince Glorfindel’s voice was muffled but it was unmistakably him. “Glorfindel.”

On my unsteady feet, I exited my bathtub and wrapped my towel robe around me, my cold feet feeling unpleasant on the even colder ground.

I unlocked the door and opened it. There stood the Prince, tall and handsome, his face set with determination. 

“I am sorry for this,” he murmured, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him after he looked behind him once. I stepped away to accommodate him and the moment he locked the door, he turned around and cupped my face, kissing me.

*

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way,” Prince Glorfindel said afterwards, when we were in bed together, naked and pressed against each other. “He shouldn’t speak that way to anyone. It is degrading.”

I nodded, tracing patterns on his chest. After he had taken me against the bathroom wall, he had given me just a few moments to collect my things before carrying me upstairs. “Thank you so much for standing up for me. I could never have done that. He already makes my life so difficult sometimes.”

“I am sorry I did not come to your aid sooner. I had to ensure that I had all the leverage I could possibly hold against him. I cannot speak such bold words without evidence to support me, you know. The bureaucratic order of this world would not approve,” Prince Glorfindel murmured, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. My heart melted at that.

“You never said you were a prince,” I frowned, “Why is that?”

“It is not wise to flaunt such a frivolous title in such dangerous times, especially away from home,” Glorfindel murmured. “Would you have treated me any differently if you knew?”

I thought about it and then nodded; “Yes,” I finally said, “I would have given an extra shine to your spoons. And maybe used the title Prince instead of Lieutenant General.”

I said this teasingly but in my mind, it was true. 

He chuckled, “But would you have seen me differently?”

I pushed myself up to look at him, even in the dark, the soft illumination of moon light, he was handsome. I shrugged. “I don’t see you differently now that I know. I-I-well, you are still my savior. That has not changed. You are still my lover, that I hope does not change any time soon.”

I blushed at my own words. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he cupped my face and pulled me closer. His skin against mine made me tingle all over.

“Neither do I,” he admitted. 

“I don’t know how to treat you differently now that I know,” I told him thoughtfully, “You never asked to be treated differently.”

“You treat me well enough. I prefer that over the fawning I received when I studied abroad in America,” he said, slightly derisively, as though remembering a particularly embarrassing memory. I can only imagine.

“You studied abroad?” I asked incredulously and he grinned. 

“I am a Yale Alumni,” he told me. “I studied medicine at Yale’s School of Medicine. I also studied German in Gondolin, funnily enough.” 

I stared at him, fascinated. He was so educated. He must have been so privileged in his youth to be able to afford that--he was a Prince! I was not going to lie and say I was not even a little envious. With so much knowledge and intelligence—how amazing, I could do grand things for myself. I can do so much and not rely on the mercy of strangers and estranged family members.

“You lived abroad from your country your whole life?” I breathed. What I wouldn't give to go to university. But I was not intelligent enough to do so, and I did not have the funding for it. Not to mention, the support. If I wasn’t blessed with the unfortunate identity of being a woman, I might have been able to pursue a post-secondary education with my parents’ full blessing and support.

“Not my whole life, no,” Prince Glorfindel told me, shifting me so that my knees were on either side of his body. I could feel the hardness of his body against the softness of mine and it felt so good. “My childhood up until my graduation was spent in Valinor’s capital, Valmar, I deviated between Gondolin and Valmar often. Afterwards I travelled to America where I received my doctorate, and my citizenship. Then I spent a few months travelling the world with my cousins, Ecthelion and Maedhros. You may know Ecthelion, he was the Lieutenant who came for dinner a few weeks previous.”

“I guessed that he is related to you,” I admitted, “You are too alike, now that I think about it...wait, how old does that make you now?”

”Thirty-three,” he grunted, pressing kisses to my shoulder, making me shudder. I was almost nineteen. The age difference made me start, and if he had told me this before, I probably would have hesitated into being involved into such an explicit affair with him. Besides, he looked younger. Despite being so austere for a person, he kept up with the latest styles and trends with his personal appearance. His face structure and how well he took care of his physique pointed at a much younger man. I suppose now that I thought about it, I didn’t really mind his age difference. A younger man might have been more immature, and less receptive of my abnormalities.

“I am the only blonde in my cousins funnily enough,” Glorfindel commented, tearing my mind from the topic of age, and effectively seizing my interest. “My mother was from another Province, my station of Prince is through her.”

I nodded. A lot of things began to make sense now. When I began talking about my childhood, I had reluctantly admitted that my education did not extend to post secondary. My brothers received that privilege instead, and in the end, it was wasted in the war. Six years of their lives was eaten away in the war and to this day, I have no idea what became of them. I did not think about them often. Why would I? They would shun me like the rest of my family anyways—we have never been particularly close, even in our childhood.

“I had 3 older brothers before me, my parents sent them. They couldn't afford to send me. There was no need. I...well I am a woman, I don’t need an education,” saying that sounded dumb and unprogressive. But it sounded practiced, even to my ears.

“Everyone deserves an education,” Glorfindel scoffed, something akin to incredulity in his iridescent gaze, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You are no different.”

I pressed a kiss to his chin and settled back on his chest, my thoughts going back to Simmons’ cruel words. The only thing that has set me apart from other women was the fact that I was barren. It could not have been Jan because his mistresses had children from him, if the rumors prove to be true. I had often entertained the thought of marrying Glorfindel, the American (Who was actually Valinorian), just because it was easier to imagine a better, easier life with him wherever else than without him in Germany. But now, it was impossible to imagine a life with Glorfindel. He was a prince. He had the duty of providing more heirs for his country, even if he might not be in direct line of succession. I could not fulfill that duty and how could I be so selfish to deny an entire country the bloodline of such an amazing man? I slowly inched off the man but his arms tightened to hold fast.

“What is it?” he murmured, “Is it what he said to you?”

“It is not anything I don’t already know,” I murmured, something deep inside me melting into a puddle of disappointments and broken dreams. I was so foolish to believe myself better than anyone. In the end, every person in my life so far achieved much more than I ever could, and probably will. 

“Still, it was not his business to say it. Neither was it his right to determine your worth for it,” Glorfindel insisted, “He is rotten for that. You are worth a thousand of him.”

“You are kind to say that,” I murmured, settling on his chest once more, relaxed. 

That is how we were for the rest of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

The news of Glorfindel’s permission for leave came the following Spring. By then, a few weeks earlier, the unpleasant Simmons Fitzgerald had been stationed in Berlin. I was devastated at the news of Glorfindel’s imminent departure but I couldn’t show it. This man, for only a year of my life, had been the best thing to ever happen to me. I hadn’t learned to appreciate it until only eight months ago. 

“I am sorry to leave you,” Glorfindel murmured, the night before his departure. He had made love to me vigorously until I cried and crashed. It had already been several minutes but my breath kept evading me and my heart wouldn’t slow. An embarrassingly normal occurrence in his prescience it would seem.“But I have a responsibility back at my home. I cannot say no.”

“I would never ask you to stay,” I sniffed, my heart pounding with the anticipation of the oncoming loneliness and heartbreak. I didn’t want him to go. He made me feel as though I had value. How many men had ever made me feel that way? Certainly not Jan nor my father, who I hadn’t spoken to in nearly nine months. Glorfindel was the only person who listened for my opinion and actively asked for it. “How could I ever be so selfish?”

“You are the least selfish person I know,” Glorfindel murmured, stroking my face and pressing me closer to him. “You would never ask me to stay or come with me.”

“I never thought to,” I giggled tearfully, thoughtlessly proving his point. But the thought of it awakened a deep yearning in me. I would never see him again, he would move on with his life and I would be a pleasant memory or reminiscence. He would marry a gorgeous woman of his station and rank and they would have gorgeous little blond-haired children. The thought broke my heart but made me glad for him because he would still be happy.

He took my hand and I wasn’t sure what he was fiddling with but a cool ring slid on to my ring finger, where it fell loose, then to my middle finger, where it wasn’t quite secure, and then my forefinger, where it kind of fit well enough. “What are you doing?”

“A promise ring,” he said softly and my heart fluttered. I stopped breathing. A promise of what? He couldn’t be so cruel as to give me such false hope. We would be worlds apart. What promise will he be able to keep?

“What?” I breathed, my hand paralyzed, the cool ring feeling weighty on my finger.

“We  _ will _ see each other again,” he insisted, his lips touching the skin of my forehead. I stared at his throat in the dark, uncomprehending but attentive. He couldn’t be doing what I thought he was doing...surely? “But not as a soldier...you won’t even recognize me.”

“I won’t?” I whimpered, still trying to make sense of the promise. “What will you do when we see each other again?”

“I will marry you,” he told me and there was no way I could have misheard that.

“You will?” I asked him weakly, gripping at his shoulders for anchorage, staring at him in the dark, my mind hearing but unable to comprehend. How could he want to marry me? I am barren, I have no education to offer him, I am simple. I could never--I felt my eyes well up in tears. This promise was too good to be true, despite the barriers that could be problematic.

“I will,” he affirmed, and then hesitated, “That is, if you so wish it—“

“I do,” I squeaked without thinking twice. The opportunity to marry the man I love? The kindest, gentlest man to ever walk? My beacon of light, hope, love, and the man who was in my dreams as I fell asleep in his arms? The man who listened to me and believed in me, even when I don’t? The man who accepted me despite my flaws and differences? Where else would I find such a husband—it is already so rare to marry for love.

He paused and I felt him take a shuddering breath and when he spoke, there was faint emotion in his voice. “That gives me pleasure to know that I have such a privilege from you. I swear this upon my honor; no force on earth could make me break my vows. Even if it takes me a hundred years to search for you, I will find you and I will marry you.”

That was a promise that I felt shot through me like a bolt of electricity. 

“This ring is proof of my promise,” he whispered to me, gripping my hands and pressing a kiss above where the ring was.

“Why me?” I asked him, still unable to believe him. “I-You know that I can’t--You have a duty to your country. I can’t help you fulfill that duty. I am not learned like you are--I-I-I can’t even--”

“Shhhh,” he murmured, cupping my face and kissing me, rolling over me and gently peppering my face with kisses, pressing into me. “There is always time to learn new things and I told you before, didn’t I? I would love my wife no matter what, even if she couldn’t give me children. I was not referring to any random woman. You have been meant to be mine all along. I have many other brothers and cousins who are before me in line to the throne. The world will not end without me. But my world will lose its taste without you.”

I hugged him closer to me, the emotion within me choking me up. All that he was telling me now made me cry. I know now, more than ever, surer than ever, that I loved him. I would die for this man. I always knew that if he left or broke my heart, I would never recover. I hadn’t thought to process that as love. And it was; he was my one true love and with it, my second chance at a life that I prayed for. 

“How will you find me?” I whimpered thickly, my tears making me nearly incoherent. He kept kissing away my tears and shushing me gently, but I couldn’t be consoled. All my dreams were finally at my feet. But all my dreams will leave me on the morrow. Was there anything more heartbreaking? His loss...yes, that was infinitely more heartbreaking. 

“I just will. Wear this ring for me and never take it off, will you do that for me?” He asked me softly and I nodded vigorously. How could he be bother to ask that of me? This ring comes before my life.

“Yes,” I breathed, “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Good, this is my binding oath to you, Elisabet Sabine Wolfgang; when I find you again, I will marry you,” he murmured, entering me and for the rest of the night we made more love.

*~*~*

A week after the departure of Prince Glorfindel, all hell broke loose. News of my brothers’ deaths came, which sent the entire family in mourning. I finally sold the manor to the Americans and auctioned all the furniture within it. I only carried with me the jewelry and papers with me, still unwilling to auction them off. They might be useful somewhere else. 

I stayed with my family for a while...nearly three months before certain signs became clear. At first, I was upchucking my meals. Then I was getting these crazy bouts of exhaustion and fatigue that were never there. I was getting all the symptoms of a pregnant woman but how could I be pregnant? I was barren. So the thought of me being pregnant never crossed my mind.

But that was my mistake. I didn’t think I was pregnant. An honest mistake, given the many failures. There was no need for me to take silly contraceptive measures when there was evident proof that I couldn’t even conceive from one man. Everyone, including me, blamed my infertility on me, never considering the man’s role, or the compatibility of my body with his, given the circumstances of our marriage. My mistake became a huge catalyst to the grand scale of the function of society. After my father had noticed my stomach becoming disproportionately large, without even addressing me about it, he had kicked me out. He must have concluded that weight gain did not limit itself to the midriff and had done the math on it. How long has it been since Jan was taken away? How long has it been since I lived alone with the American? How long have I lived alone with the America? Was it possible that I was a wanton daughter—not worth of the Wolfgang name? It was all plausible and it was the foundation of my father’s decision.

I had come one day, my three suitcases waiting for me, a horse and buggy, and my mother wailing her eyes out, begging my father to let me stay. When I tried asking him about it, he had simply called me a whore and closed the door in my face. After many hours in the cold, it soon became clear that he was not going to open the door for me. So I picked up my suitcases and departed to the nearest train station, on foot, nearly frozen.

My departure from my childhood home was not as heartbreaking as I thought it would be. It was terrifying, certainly, but I wasn’t going to miss it. Perhaps the only person I would miss is my mother. But I could easily write to her. I just needed to find a place to stay to do that. Or maybe not. My correspondence with me can put her in a difficult position with my tempestuous, treacherous father. 

And that was how I traveled all of Germany, on the way of selling my jewelry, one by one, until I finally reached Britain. I wasn’t sure I reached Britain. I had taken a last-class cart, where it was smelly and tight. I had found a broken ticket with Britain as a destination and took it as mine, staying seated, showing my ticket to the conductor, and finally reaching Britain. 

It was that simple, really.

Britain was infinitely cheaper than Germany in the sense that the products they sold had value. I could spend money and actually receive something. Immediately, I found a job as a line worker at a canning factory. It was easy to hide my belly because I was so malnourished that everything was small in me. I was aware that it was not a good thing. The one time I have a child, something I pined for my whole womanhood, I realize that I cannot do anything to help, to be able to keep it. It broke my heart but reality called and I could do no more than to carry it while I worked ungodly hours for a barely livable wage. I was technically not supposed to work while I was pregnant. However, needs must.

When I could no longer hide my bump, I took to wrapping a cloth around my belly tightly to push it in, like a make-shift corset. For a while, it was painful. But then I got used to it, as I got used to my brassiere. It was easy to not speak in a factory because everyone was so busy doing their work. I didn’t understand what they said but I did what everyone else did. I picked up on a few words and facial expressions that I thought might be helpful in general interaction. 

I was sure there was still anti-german feelings. That is why I tried so hard to not speak. I pretended that I was mute. Besides, it was easy to mistake me for someone who was not German due to my mother’s Italian heritage. I had her colouring. But there were disadvantages to that sort of colouring as well. Italians were scorned, especially after the war.

I wasn't so sure how Glorfindel would find me now but his ring stayed on my person, as a necklace underneath my clothes at all times. I just hoped that one day I would find him then. So now I was an illiterate German in an English country. I had much to protect myself from. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion occurs

The work line was hot and everywhere stank. The machines were large and radiated skin-scorching heat, which I had to work in close proximity to. My hands were cracked and dry from how hot everything was. My throat was parched so I took to carrying with me a glass bottle around with me to drink water from. I was always so thirsty and I always needed to use the washroom but our supervisor did not permit breaks. I knew this because he fired a woman before me who had taken a quick washroom break. Holding it all in was unbearable, so much so that when it was finally time to take our break, I would be the first in line to the washrooms (which were filthy). My feet and ankles were constantly swollen. I was constantly hungry and my saving grace was the canned bread that I received in large quantities from the food bank. 

When it was time for my break, after I had rushed off to the washroom, I glanced behind me and saw that there was a gaggle of women behind me, all of them in their middle-age years, wearing a similar uniform to me; green cotton dresses, white stockings, black shoes, and grey aprons. Their coats were different though, those were not company provided. So here I was, huddled in a jacket I managed to get from a pawn shop. The women were looking at me and speaking. There was no doubt that I was the subject of their topic, and their looks did not sit well with me. They watched me cynically, unimpressed. I felt my heart leap in my throat. Women can be vicious. I wasn’t sure what they have on me but anything that reaches the supervisor’s ears, no matter how trivial, is dangerous. He can easily fire me without pay and finding a job was hard. My last resort would be prostitution, once I die.

I wanted to approach these women, speak to them and tell them hi. My social depravity had made me quirky, I was aware of it, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know English very well and the words I knew were from the dictionary I memorized but I couldn’t risk speaking because of my accent. Still, there was war propaganda all over, warning against the Germans and actively hating them. It was too dangerous for me right now to speak in German. I had driven right into the heart of the enemy and there was nothing that I could do about it even though the war ended months ago. I wasn’t sure why I decided to make my stop in Britain. But that is where all my cash ran out. The only thing left for me was Glorfindel’s ring, my cross necklace, and my mother’s bangles. I was loathe to sell those. Glorfindel’s ring was something I would never think to sell. The only reason it would leave my body was if I was robbed and killed, that is why I wore it with my cross beneath my clothes.

I looked at the women once more and bit into my sad excuse of a sandwich. It wasn’t much of a sandwich. Just a slice of bread that I cut thin and peppered some salt on. Some days, it was the most appetizing thing in my house. My stomach hasn’t seen vegetables or fruits in weeks, it hasn’t seen meat or dairy in even longer. Only wheat was my staple diet. 

I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned behind me and saw that it was one of the women. Immediately, I was on the defensive. She spoke to me in english and I understood just a few words and the general gist was that she was asking after my day:

“Good, thank you,” I told her in English, hoping it wasn't too obvious that I was a foreigner. She frowned at me and pointed at herself.

“Dorothy,” she said and I nodded, rising to my feet with a hesitant smile. She was taller than me, and she had the body of a woman who had a few children herself.

“Elisabet,” I told her and she nodded, giving me a smile and waving, turning around and returning to her group. I felt my shoulders deflate in disappointment. I had really wanted to speak more to her but the language barrier was far too great and she only seemed to be experimenting with me to report back to her friends. It was obvious enough from the way they looked back at me while they spoke with each other.

I turned around and shortly after, the break bell rang, signifying the end of my lunch.

*

My landlord did not like the fact that I stayed out too late. I finished nearly an hour earlier but transportation was usually sparse at that time of the night (12). I could see drunks rolling off bars, women giggling with gaggles of men surrounding them. Those scenes were no longer new to me. At first I was scandalized but then I realised that everyone else around me seemed used to it so I suppressed my surprise.

The moment I got off my first bus, I know that I would have to wait for a second bus that comes in 15 minutes. I was used to it. It was just as routinely as brushing my hair, my teeth, washing my clothes, or filing my nails. But this time, I needed to use the loo. I had to squeeze my thighs together because the only available establishment at this time of the night was a pub, where I was sure I wasn't going to be allowed for simply the washroom, despite the fact that it was right behind me.

Then, all at once, a large gaggle of men exited the pub. They were all slurring and swerving their arms clumsily, singing the same song that one heard in the streets of London; it was their victory song. I cringed and discreetly moved away but it was too late, they noticed me.

The catcalling I couldn't understand so it did not disturb me as much. But what did disturb me was the fact that they moved towards me. A bus was coming my way, it wasn’t the bus I took. I ignored it. But when one of the men reached out to touch me, I moved away, almost walking in front of the bus, which halted and opened its doors for me. 

I quickly got in, paying my fee and running to the back of the bus, watching as the drunken men ran next to the bus at the window. I covered my mouth with my hand in fright. I didn’t want them running after the bus, looking at me and grinning their drunk, sickening grins. But eventually I lost sight of them

Two stops later, I got off the bus, knowing that there was no way I could find a way back without walking a fair distance. My bladder was already at its limit. I would just have to relieve myself in an alleyway. 

But I was in a nice neighborhood, all of a sudden. The bus did not travel far but everything in London was next to each other. I felt disgusted and uncultured when I lifted my skirts and squatted down, finally relieving myself. But the relief was worth it. I only just had to find my way back. I was starving and I was exhausted. I had work early tomorrow. 

“Oi!” a voice called and I steadily ignored it, turning around and walking away, actively running from the voice. The city seemed to be alive with drunkards at midnight. Why couldn't they just leave me in peace? I already missed the last bus and I was not in an area I recognized. This only happened to me twice before but only with my bus. I was terrified out of my wits. 

I heard rapid footsteps behind me and I picked up my pace, taking a turn onto the next street before I slammed into a huge wall.

Only, it wasn't a wall. It was a man, incredibly tall and broad, wearing a neatly pressed tuxedo. The face was faintly recognizable but I couldn't see well in the dark. 

“Oh fuck,” the voice behind me muttered in disappointment. I was too frightened to turn around because now I had another problem to contend myself with: the man was gripping my arms and not letting go.

“Elisabet?” the voice made me freeze from my struggling. It was Glorfindel's voice. My heart stuttered.

“Glorfindel?”I asked hesitantly, fearfully. I felt the man drag me mercilessly into a fairly lit street and there he was tall and formidable like a shadowed angel of doom. I was too shocked to speak. After so long of just missing him and worrying about him, he was finally here. He was the exact same as I remembered but at the same time, I couldn't recognize him. He just looked so normal. I never saw him in anything but a uniform and a cap and now seeing him with his hair wavy and loose, framing his strong, beautiful face, I almost didn’t recognize him. It couldn't be a doppelganger; no one was as tall or as beautiful as him. 

“What is your full name?” I asked him frantically.

“General Lieutenant Glorfindel Laurefindel, Duke of Gondolin and Prince of Valmar,” he told me without hesitation. “Yours?”

“Elisabet Sabine Wolfgang, I have your ring!” I helped excitedly, taking out my necklace and pulling the ring in the light of his vision. He touched the ring, and then nodded.

In one swift move, he had me in his arms and all I could see was nothing. But I felt his front against mine, I smelled his familiar pine and sandalwood, I felt his powerful muscles against my swollen but constricted stomach. It all felt so good. Especially after months of deprivation of human contact. I wrapped my arms around him, inhaling embarrassingly deep. He even smelled great. It wasn’t the same, metal and forest scent that I was accustomed to. This was pine and aftershave, so subtle but so wonderful. 

“Come, Elisabet,” he murmured gently, wrapping an arm around me and walking me to where a sleek, black car remained parked. I was compliant the whole time. He could be taking me and locking me where I could no longer see the sun and I wouldn't resist him. I was simply too weak with love for him. Immediately, out of the car, another familiar figure emerged. It was Lieutenant Ecthelion. I waved at him shyly and he nodded at me, seeming surprised.

“It is good to see you, Lady Heydrich,” he said respectfully in german.

“Please, just Elisabet,” I told him, grimacing at the mention of my former last name, but still, I glanced about wearily at the empty, dimly lit streets.

“Elisabet, then,” he said, in lining his and opening the door for me. I looked helplessly at Glorfindel who nodded at me, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. 

“Go inside, my sweet,” he told me, “You will stay with me from now on. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I breathed, compliantly ducking into the car. I felt sore at my sides. I have been getting those ever since I began wrapping my belly tightly in linens.

“Good,” Glorfindel said, closing the door and coming around the other side while Ecthelion got in the front.

“I'll take you home,” Ecthelion said quietly. Glorfindel got in the passenger seat next to Ecthelion, angling his body so that he was looking at me, Ecthelion, and the road with simple turns of his head. 

“How did you come here?” Glorfindel asked me quietly, during the car ride. 

“The train,” I said simply, feeling short of breath and dizzy. I felt so safe but so tired. 

“Sleep,” Glorfindel ordered me, reaching out a long arm and stroking the side of my face, “We will talk tomorrow morning.”

*~*~*

When I woke up, I was on the most comfortable bed I have ever slept it. It felt wonderful against my sore back. My ankles were propped up on something even softer, there was a pillow between my legs that did wonders for my hips. Everything felt so delightful. I was warm for the first time in a long time. 

“Shh…” it was Glorfindel’s voice, he was stroking my hair and stomach, which felt ridiculously bare. “You silly goose. You silly, pregnant goose.”

My eyes shot open and I stared at him. He was smiling at me softly. It was like a dream and he was my angel. Everywhere was white. “What?” I stuttered, feeling as though I had fallen off a cliff, and I was still falling.

“Why did you hurt yourself so?” he was tracing lines on my stomach and then reality hit me. I struggled to sit up and he helped me with a hand around me to prop me up gently. I was wearing loose pants and a pajama top, clearly made for a man. Had he undressed me and dressed me? My belly was bare, the bottom few buttons undone. He was stroking me there and I could see ugly red lines from the creasings of my linens, even the occasional bruise or so. 

Glorfindel pressed a tall glass of perspiring water in my hands and I downed it. It had a lemony tang to it and immediately, I felt refreshed.

“I had to work,” I told him dumbly when I felt his hand once again stroke my stomach. I didn’t mind that he had bared it. His hands on me, anywhere, felt glorious. “They wouldn’t have taken me if I was pregnant.”

“You won’t have to work like that any longer,” he promised me, pressing kisses to my lips and melted into him. My stomach felt so much better. “I-When I marry you, you will be a Duchess, a princess. This child--” he put a hand on my belly and I cut him off.

“It's yours,” I squeaked, feeling irrationally frightened. What would it turn him into if he thought that I had been unfaithful? How terribly would he turn against me? “When you left...I--My parents wouldn't let me stay, it was too shameful. I had to leave and I came here. But it is yours--not Jan’s not anyone else’s. I know that I thought I was barren...I don’t know how but I am not. I don’t understand it either.”

“I know,” he assured me, “I believe you. It might have been his children were not products of his seed. But no matter that. Do not think of that man. This is good news. Forgive me with the liberties I have taken with you, I did not think you would be very comfortable in your work clothes.”

I shook my head mutely, speechless with relief at him believing me. I wouldn’t have believed myself if I were him. “I don’t mind.”

He kissed me again and hugged him; “This baby will be the little Royal of this world,” he promised me softly.

“How will your family accept me?” I asked him frightfully. 

“They know about you,” he admitted and I blushed with shame and mortification. I was not the most honorable woman to speak about. “All good things though,” he assured me at my horrified look.

“I--my--my everything is back at my apartment,” I told him, deciding this conversation could wait at a later date. I had a feeling it might turn the mood sour and I didn’t want anything to ruin this day for me.

“Today, we will get your belongings. Then we will go to my solicitor to draw up a formal marriage contract. I already contacted him. It should take about a week or so,” he told me, his face stoic at the revelation, his eyes though...they were searching me frantically.

I nodded, dazed; “But your family--won’t they want a ceremony?”

Glorfindel shook his head; “This marriage contract is purely titular. It is legal and it is an assurance of status. It is the only way I can guarantee your full rights and protection under my name, anywhere we go. An official contract and ceremony will come after we arrive to Gondolin.”

“Will there be prenuptials for me to sign?” I asked him, the word feeling dry in my mouth. I didn’t want him to think I was a gold-digger. I wasn’t after his title. He was simply the man I loved. I was willing to sign prenuptials if it was what it took for us to be together. But the concept of prenuptial disheartened me, it suggested a lack of trust in my mind. “I am willing.”

“This can be discussed later if you wish,” he told me hesitantly, his eyes mildly disappointed, “But I don’t see why we should have it. I never let go of what is mine, I never neglect what is mine. We will share everything. In the case of my death, you will inherit what is mine. And you, my sweet, are most assuredly  _ mine _ .”

“Don’t speak like that,” I chastised him, cupping his face, which felt hard and angular against my fingers, “Don't jinx your death like that. I want you to live to a hundred with me.”

“God willing,” he toasted, kissing me. 

I felt my heart race at his words. He didn’t want prenuptials. With a throat clogged with emotion, I leaned forward and kissed him harder. He pulled away, looking extremely serious. I watched his face attentively, aware he was reaching behind him and bringing something. But I couldn’t look at anything else but his face as he moved away from the bed. I furrowed my eyebrows when he knelt down on one knee next to my bed and I stared at him, my heart pounding at the implication.

“What are you doing?” I whimpered, scared but excited. This was a dream. It had to be. It was too perfect. But Glorfindel--no man would be so cruel as to just pretend to propose. The intricately carved silver box in his hand was gorgeous and worth more than my entire life put together. Surely something so expensive could not be the butt of a joke? When he opened it, everything in the room seemed to stop, including my breath.

In the box was white gold, so stark and vibrant that it made my eyes tear. The body of the band itself was a simple, elegant twist. It was embedded, in the middle, with a princess-cut diamond. It was gorgeous. 

“I had no time to get an heirloom shipped,” he said apologetically, “I had to buy this--”

“When did you have the time?” I asked him faintly, my mind not adding up with the events.

“The moment I came back from Germany,” I nodded, looking at him expectantly, nervously. 

“It is gorgeous,” I said faintly. I was waiting for him to ask the question. I had to be sure. He was asking me to marry me, surely…?

“Will you marry me?” he asked me, finally. I suddenly lost my voice. I opened my mouth to say yes as elegantly as possible but instead, I felt my eyes leak with tears. I was too happy. This moment was going perfectly. Instead, I nodded. 

He gently took my hand and slipped the ring on my ring finger. It was slightly too large but I didn’t mind. It was gorgeous. The diamond gleamed and I blinked back emotion. I opened my mouth to say something but I couldn’t. I felt him rise from his position on the floor and cup my face in his hands, kissing me. His lips felt so good against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed him closer to me.

“You didn’t even have to ask,” I giggled, once I regained my voice. “I was yours before you left.”

“I was yours since the day I set eyes on you,” he countered to me softly, kissing me. I felt my heart swell with emotion at the revelation.

“Really?” I asked him shyly, thinking of all the bitter times I thought he was just an invader who happened to stay at my house.

“Yes,” he told me, pulling me on his lap. Squishing my stomach between us. “The moment you stood there, in your little brown dress and your large, chocolate eyes. You were simply gorgeous, especially the way the light hit your hair, making it look red.”

I blushed. I didn’t feel as pretty as he described me. 

“I want a bath,” I told him shyly, “May I please have a bath?”

“It is getting drawn up for you,” he assured me. “Do you want to eat first?”

I thought about it and nodded, “Yes, please.”

“Wait right here,” he told me and I nodded. He got off the bed and exited the room. In his absence, I took the time to study my surroundings. His room was predominantly grey and white. The walls were cream-colored with golden accents, his furniture was mahogany, his bedsheets were grey and everything seemed so grand and luxurious yet so simplistic. On his dresser was a brush for his hair, a craftily-designed tin box to hold his shaving kit, some medicinal creams, and a shoe shiner. It was all so very minimalistic. 

I slowly got out of the bed, pulling his pajamas over my belly once more and doing the buttons. It felt so good to be free, finally. There were ridges on my belly where it hurt but I was sure it would heal in time...surely. But the bruises and dents will take longer to fade. I was still healthy was I not? My baby was safe...right? My belly was ugly and a large part of me was frightened because of it. But Glorfindel,  _ no _ , he would help me. Now that he was here, everything would be better. I was sure of it. 

I moved to the window, to look at the view of the pleasant little buildings standing up in Kensington W8. It was the richest neighborhood in London and it showed, the air was clear and it was so beautiful. I could see the gold street across from us, where many, gorgeous shops of gold stood erect. 

“Is this your place?” I asked him curiously. 

“It is my inheritance,” he corrected me, “So yes, I suppose it is my place. It is my Grandfather’s. I have four other cousins from my Mother’s side, I suppose they are more like siblings to me than cousins. They each have a property in their name from our Grandfather. My grandmother has given us different properties in our name. I have another property in Sardinia, in Italy.”

“Oh,” I said, in a small voice. An entire apartment in Kensington W8 had an astronomical price tag on it. . “I have my gold cross.” I said jokingly, holding it up. “Fascinating is it not?”

He smiled at me indulgently, setting the tray down on a small table in the middle of his room. “Beautiful. Now come and eat.”

Breakfast was orange juice, boiled eggs, and bacon. These were all things I never thought I would ever see in my lifetime here. These were all food products that no normal person could ever afford. I looked at him hesitantly and he nodded at me encouragingly. I never had orange juice before.

“Eat,” he encouraged me, “I imagine your diet was not the best, either.”

“Canned bread was a daily special,” I told him jokingly and he nodded in understanding. I could see his lips purse in displeasure and I sat down at the chair that he pulled out for me and he sat down next to me. We ate in silence. I glanced at him occasionally, watching the way he ate, admiring him. He was just so neat and elegant at everything he did. I felt sloppy even though I was raised similarly to a noblewoman. On the subject of my food, I was absolutely starving. I managed to eat everything and Glorfindel merely sippeled lightly on his orange juice, eating his toast and jam.

“Will you not eat?” I asked him. He shook his head, “I already ate. I just didn’t want you to be lonely while you ate.”

I nodded, slightly embarrassed. He prepared a huge breakfast for me and I was famished enough to finish more than half of it.

“Finish it,” he ordered me quietly, “Please. It would help ease my mind knowing you ate something. I don’t like the look of your ribs.”

“Ok,” I squeaked shyly, huddling in myself. I ate just like he wanted me to. I could do nothing to displease him and better for me because I was famished. I shyly reached out to eat something else.

I decided to address another issue with him; “What will the people say?” I asked him hesitantly, “When they find out that I was pregnant before my...marriage?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said nonchalantly, “They are not the ones marrying you. But I will say that we got married in secret, in Germany, to avoid persecution from our respective countrymen.”

“You will do that for me?” I asked him, feeling weary of that. How would a story like that turn out?

“There are not many things that I won’t do for you,” he said seriously. “Ecthelion and my other trusted friend can act as our witnesses. My other friend was studying theology at the time, he can be the acting priest. Elrond is his name.”

“I--You thought this out very thoroughly,” I told him contemplatively. He grinned at me.

“I had eight months to do so,” he said seriously, leaning forward and pressing his hand to my belly, where it is the most swollen. I gave him a nervous giggle. I didn’t know how to comport myself around him. It had been so long. But he decided that for me. He got off from his seat, kneeling before me and began unbuttoning my pajama top. I let him, I didn’t know what he was going to do but I didn’t mind. He was mine and I was his. Once he parted my pajama top, I blushed and covered my breasts, which felt too exposed in the morning air of London. But he gently parted my hands with a soft;

“No, don’t,” before pressing a kiss to my sternum. I shuddered. It has been far too long. I pressed my knees together shyly and he smirked at me before holding my belly between both his hands and kissing me there. The skin of my belly was more sensitive than the rest of me. I felt a prickle from his chin on my skin.

“Hooo--hoo,” I squealed shyly and he chuckled, rising and lifting me with him.

“I--your back,” I scolded, “You shouldn’t carry a grown woman.”

“Your bath is ready,” he told me, jostling me so that I was pressed further against him. “Don’t you worry your gorgeous little head about me. You just stay safe and grow our baby in you.”

I couldn’t stop smiling at him. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding ceremony occurs that is legally binding.

Glorfindel had treated me to the best experiences and treats that a Prince could afford. He wasted no expense on me and my clothes had gone from scratchy wool to soft cotton, silks, and the best fabric money could buy. I constantly begged him to not exert so much money on me but he merely smiled at me and kissed me, making me melt into him. He always assured me that he didn’t use tax payers’ money, but instead, from his own income from being on the Council of United Nations and the Allied War Council. It didn’t make a difference to me anyways. It still bothered me but after a while, I learned to stop. If it was his money that he earned, who was I to argue? I was so ridiculously weak for him anyways.

A week after we were reunited, just as promised, our marriage forms were drawn up. The next day, in the city council, we were privately married before the presence of the judge, the solicitor, Lieutenant Ecthelion, and the man named Lord Elrond. Lord Ecthelion was dressed in a smart black suit, similar to Lord Elrond and Glorfindel. Lord Elrond was a younger man than Lord Ecthelion and Glorfindel. But his features were strikingly similar to Ecthelion. He was a man of a quiet disposition but a sharp wit to his eyes that put anything in line with his gaze under scrutiny. 

I was dressed in an ankle-length light blue, flown skirt, with peacock imitations at the hems of my dress. It was a boat-neck design where the neck decorated with peacock feather imitations. My bonnet was light grey with teal accents and my little kitten heels were beige. I didn’t think that they would match but they did and I was glad that they did because in my pregnant state, there wasn’t a lot that could have looked nice on me but thankfully this did. The seamstress was intuitive enough to take that into consideration when she was designing my dress. My overcoat was white fur and small, tin, blue Carnations as buttons. I felt pretty, although I really would have liked a white wedding dress, I didn’t want to bring so much attention to it, especially in my pregnant state.

After the ceremony, the lot of us had chatted briefly and then Glorfindel treated us to dinner at Le Chåteau. It was an upstate French restaurant and there I saw many celebrities. Not the most inconspicuous place but it was surprisingly quiet. 

“To the Laurefindels,”Lord Ecthelion toasted, his cheeks flushed, a smile on his face as he raised his wine glass. I sheepishly raised my water glass to toast while all the other men raised their red wine glasses. 

“Thank you,” I said instead, because it felt silly to say ‘to the Laurefindels.’ Toasting for myself felt arrogant.

“She will have many uncles to spoil her, Elisabet,” Lord Elrond said, with a gleam in his sharp gaze. 

“She?” I echoed, glancing around, wondering to him Lord Elrond was referring to as ‘she’.

“Your child,” Lord Ecthelion supplied helpfully, and I glanced at Glorfindel who rolled his eyes at me. I was lost but clearly these men were in on something that I wasn’t.

“You are not making bets on my child’s gender,” Glorfindel said sternly, while downing a proper mouthful before taking my plate from me and cutting up my steak in small bites. It always embarrassed me when he did that. I was perfectly capable of cutting up my own meat. I wasn’t an invalid. 

“It will happen anyways,” Lord Elrond said smugly, “Might as well profit from it.”

“Everyone is betting it will be a boy, Ronny-boy,” Lord Ecthelion clapped Elrond’s shoulder, “It will be an expensive loss.”

“Or a massive gain,” Lord Elrond said smugly.

I giggled incredulously, how confident of him. “What makes you so sure?”

“No, don’t ask that question,” Lord Ecthelion grimaced, before Lord Elrond could speak. “You won’t want to hear it.”

“That is true, my love,” Glorfindel told me, already halfway through cutting the steak. Lord Elrond simply smiled and nursed his wine glass elegantly, seeming unwilling to back down on his clearly unpopular side.

“I can do that, Glorfindel,” I whispered slightly embarrassed, glancing at the two men as they dug into their own steaks.

“You take forever to cut your meat, by then it will be cold,” he told me, “I want to do this anyways.” So I let him, taking his plate instead and cutting it up in bigger pieces for him, just how he liked it.

We switched plates again and I picked a few of my cuts and gave them to him. The taste of beef and chicken were foreign to me. Having never properly eaten any meat throughout my childhood and the entire war, this whole time. I was used to left over cuts of pork or duck, and iron meat, if I was lucky. Even being married to Jan did not get me the best food because after a while, food rations became more rare. I used to enjoy eating it but now, it felt a little overwhelming.

“Give me your asparagus,” I told him, and Glorfindel obeyed. I suppose my lack of love for meat was convenient...Glorfindel loved meat. He always had to have protein with everything. If there wasn’t meat, it was a boiled egg. He understood that. After having a lengthy discussion about it when Irefused to finish my meat, he had finally relented. It was after one of our very first dates after our reunion.

“You don’t eat meat?” Lord Ecthelion asked me politely, noting how I was piling Glorfindel’s plate.

“It has a very strong taste to it,” I admitted, “I don’t eat a lot of meat. But I do enjoy my greens,” I gave him an embarrassed smile. 

“Every mother’s dream,” Lord Elrond joked. I felt Glorfindel’s had pat my thigh, squeezing beneath my garvid belly and I blushed, stuttering some stupid response. Of all times...that man, honestly.

We ate pleasantly, occasionally chatting. I don’t remember what we were chatting about. So many things...the newest car models, the latest marbling that mansions in the Orient are being built with, why white toast was better than canned toast (I argued reverently in canned toasts’ favor), and basically everything else. Things I never imagined would interest me actually did. By the time the men were finished eating, I was half way through my plate. I was always a slow eater anyways. But I was quickly becoming full. 

“Not hungry any more?” Glorfindel asked me softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I glanced at him and blushed. I felt like a child when he asked me that, but the hand rubbing the inside of my thigh made me feel like a woman. 

“No, but I don’t want to waste it,” I said, feeling embarrassed, pushing my plate over to him. He smiled at me and willingly took the plate.

“Some dessert, lady and gentlemen?” Our garçon came, bowing as he took our dirty plates, not taking the one I passed to Glorfindel because Glorfindel began clearing the rest of my plate that I sheepishly passed over to him. I felt so childish; didn’t like meat, I didn’t eat a lot, Glorfindel cut up my meat...I felt silly and Lord Ecthelion and Lord Elrond must have thought so too but they didn’t comment on it yet. 

“Chef’s special is fine with me,” Lord Ecthelion said.

“Black Truffle Panna Conna is satisfactory, sir?” The garçon asked. It felt weird that the garçons referred to Lord Ecthelion and all the men at the table here as ‘sir’. No one here was a ‘sir’. Only Lords and Princes. But so far, they didn’t correct the garçon so I suppose it was fine. 

“It is,” Lord Ecthelion said gravely, something humorous about his face, matching the garçons serious disposition. Something about that made me giggle. He was being silly, in an inconspicuous way.

“I’ll have the same thing too, sir,” Lord Elrond said, just as gravely and I shot the two of them confused looks. The server looked startled as he nodded numbly. 

“Erm...yes, of course,” he said slowly and turned to Glorfindel. 

“Do you wanna split dessert?” He asked me and I thought about it briefly, wishing I had more time to think about it. I wanted to split a dessert but at the same time I didn’t want Glorfindel to not have his own dessert. His appetite was unnatural and I didn’t want to suppress it.

“Sure,” I found myself meekly saying. 

“Just fruit please,” Glorfindel said, “One for the two of us.”

Glorfindel handed the garçon my now-empty plate and for a while, we all did nothing but chat and eventually, before dessert arrived, I didn’t remember seeing what it was because I was already fast-asleep on Glorfindel’s shoulder, who must have predicted that would happen because he had scooted us so close my thigh was practically on top of his. 

I was vaguely aware of the men quietly chatting and chuckling. I could hear the cutlery quietly clinking throughout the restaurant. The softness of my surroundings, even the lighting, helped me manage to get in a good 45 minute nap before Glorfindel woke me up so that we can depart back to our apartment. 

“Wake up, love,” Glorfindel said, gently nudging me. I blinked up at him and leaned back, returning his smile. “I slept again didn’t I? How rude of me.”

I turned to our dinner companions, who gave me similarly assuring smiles. “Nothing to fret about, please,” Lord Elrond said softly. “You missed dessert though.”

“For the better, I think,” I told him honestly, “Or I wouldn’t have slept so well.”

We joked some more about my weird quirks and not before long, I was back in the passenger seat of Glorfindel’s Rolls Royce. We were quietly murmuring to one another, about what I couldn’t remember. But I remember feeling flushed, as though I had drunk the finest rosé. I remember his hands massaging my knees and i remember how beautiful he looked, just steering his wheel and occasionally glancing at me, his gaze soft.

“Tired?” He asked me when I yawned again. The ride was lengthy but it was not so bad. I suppose there were worse things to be on my wedding night.

“I had a decent nap for dessert,” I joked, and then covered my face in embarrassment. “Oh I felt so silly.” 

He chuckled, “You, silly? Never.”

“No, I just fell asleep and I felt so childish!”

“You are pregnant,” he reminded me dryly, “You sleep anywhere now a days.”

“Please, don’t remind me,” I told him pitifully. 

“Come now, let’s go find out how tired you really are,” he parked his car on the sidewalk in front of the entrance of our apartment.

While I drew us a bath, Glorfindel silently changed behind me. His plumbing was something that made me incredibly happy. Not everyone was blessed to have flowing water that was so readily accessible. The water came out delightfully hot and I poured some soap and epsom salt in the tub, a gift from Lord Elrond, who seemed to be strangely intuitive about my condition and knew that Epsom salts were a luxury that I didn’t often treat myself to. Especially when they were so delightfully packaged. 

“Not too much of those, yes,” Glorfindel murmured behind me, leaning against me and dipping his hand in the water. “Too hot. Let it cool.”

I pouted, “It’s perfect,”

“I don’t want to disrupt your internal temperature,” Glorfindel admitted. “I would like my baby to not come out medium rare, thank you very much.”

I burst into laughter. “Your sense of humour is so dry!” I was delighted by it though. It didn’t come out often, but when it did, it made me cackle. 

“Alright then,” I told him, “Let me get ready.” 

I got off the edge of the tub and began unlacing my dress, letting Glorfindel help me. He set aside my dress, neatly, because he knew I invested a considerable amount of effort in it. He then got to my spaghetti strap underdress beneath and took that off as well. 

“Well you do it perfectly for me,” I observed dryly, letting him undo my bra strap and hug me from behind.

“As a husband should,” he told me testily, “It feels different now that we are married.” 

I paused, really? It didn’t feel any different. Maybe the sex might feel a little more legal and that is what I said.

Glorfindel guffawed, “Well there you have it, your own brand of humour.”

“It cannot be as bad as yours,” I breathed, feeling his lips press against my shoulders, already understanding what was to come. And I was shamelessly anticipating it with eagerness. I turned around and kissed him, nearly squishing my belly between us. But he didn’t seem to mind. He cupped the underside of my belly with his massive palm and held me there in place while he deepened the kiss. Eventually I found myself on top of him, on the bathroom floor, with only a towel to save poor Glorfindel’s back against the chill and hardness. But he didn’t seem to mind. He simply held me by the side of the neck and leaned upwards to kiss me every time I came back down with my motions. Goodness, what a man. 

*

There were 3 Royal families, I learned. A Royal family of the Noldor, of the Vanyar, and of the Teleri--all three different races of people, coexisting on the same island. It didn’t make sense how they could be the same country but yet be so divided. Glorfindel himself belonged to two seperate royal families; the Vanyar and Noldor, he was also in direct line of succession only to the Vanyar (he was the fourth in line, but still). He was an active prince, anyways. He had travelled the world before the war, after his studies. He had been a Lieutenant General and a spokesman in the Allied War Councils, not to mention is currently and newly employed in the United Nations. Technically, as a member of royalty, he was not supposed to partake in such a politically vocal career, seeing as he was supposed to be seen as a separate, noncommittal entity. But that was only applicable to the British monarchy, who were so popular, that it was as if other monarchies were supposed to be held to the same standard, yet that was not the case. Not with Valinor. Valinor was its own country, with its own royal families, and its own system. Somehow, it was such a peaceful country that despite its bountiful economy, resources, and geographical strategic ness, it was a country that was not well-understood nor was it well-researched. 

Often times, Glofindel was away on business, but at the end of the day, he came back. During that time, I studied English from a book that he had given me to pass the time when he realized that I stubbornly refused to spend the money he had given me. I enjoyed languages so when I finished reading and studying from the book, I went on to other books. We only spent three weeks in London before we moved on after our ‘unofficial-but-official’ wedding ceremony.

This time, we had taken the boat back to Gondolin, just a way below Europe on the Atlantic ocean. How it was never conquered by the British amazed me. There were many historical articles on how they held off on their own, with their own powerful little army and their advanced technologies. But I couldn’t be sure. I was already patriotic for the country I never stepped foot in. It took a lot to keep those imperialists at bay.

When we boarded the ship, Glorfindel had assured me, while stroking my stomach, that I would be well received, eventually, by the media and press. His family had already accepted me, apparently. But now I was the size of an elephant, fit to give birth any minute now and that was what worried me so much. I was constantly frightened. Any ache that happened made me delirious with fear. The doctor, my husband, when I was back at London had assured me of mine and the baby’s healthy disposition. He had observed me extensively, studying from large tomes and often checking up on me. But Glorfindel had told me that he was a little worried for me because of the travel but he was equally as determined that his son would be birthed on Valinor’s soil. So now he was constantly, annoyingly sometimes, checking up on me; refusing me my sweets and limiting me to three eggs per week, with a predominantly vegetable and protein diet. I didn’t mind but I had voiced my discomfort to him and he had assured me;

“It won’t matter if you give birth on a ship or in Valinor. Just not anywhere else,” he assured me, “Nothing will happen to you or to the baby. I will be there to help you, yes? I studied medicine too, you know.”

“I know,” I said, looking dolefully at my little meal of boiled beef, steamed brussels sprouts, and parisian potatoes. I didn’t mind the small portion so much as the fact that I didn’t like brussel sprouts but had to eat them in copious amounts. The only thing that I got out of this is that Glorfindel ate the same thing that I did so as to not make me feel bad about the situation.

“I am a qualified doctor,” he told me. “I am using my knowledge and resources to try and make this pregnancy as comfortable as possible. My only regret is not being there with you since the beginning.” As he was talking, my eyebrows furrowed as a thought crossed my head.

“If you are a doctor, how come you were never a medic?”

“Didn’t want to be,” he shrugged, “I preferred the excitement more. I was a medic sometimes, when duty called.”

“Oh…” I murmured, disappointed at the way he recklessly endangered his life.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told me, pressing a kiss to my neck and trailing down to my breasts. Despite how hard my heart was pumping, I pushed his shoulders away. 

“No,” I pouted at him, my eyes tearing up and my hurt at his recklessness mounted. He leaned back and regarded me quietly watching me warily as a prey might a predator. “How could you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with--how dare you endanger yourself!”

My shoulders were shaky and I would look back at that time, and wonder what on earth made me so emotional. But Glorfindel only watched me silently. 

“I--anything could have happened to you and I--I would never have met you…” my voice cracked at the thought and I felt my eyes finally lose all will to withhold my tears. I sniffed and looked away from him, feeling silly for my tears. I felt his hands come and up the back of my neck and my shoulder.

“I am not dead,” he assured me, “My life has always been in danger, yes. But so has yours. Did you not think that a plane could have come and dropped a bomb on you. The thought is terrible, yes, but it was possible. But now we are safe and married--legally. I would never leave you. You will always come with me everywhere. Do you understand me?”

I stared at him quietly, hiccupping. His words were not the most sentimental but they were logical and they helped ease my tears. I nodded mutely. He leaned forward and kissed my tears away. 

Then we kissed--for seconds, minutes, hours--it didn’t matter. His kiss was glorious. But when he began kissing my neck and unbuttoning my dress, I shied away. I had been extremely nervous about loving him again. The risk was far too great and I certainly did not want to give birth on a boat.

“No,” I whimpered, feeling weak anyways, when peeled the dress from me and kissed my belly through the silk of my underdress. He spread my legs, “I--I’m scared.”

“We won’t do anything too much,” Glorfindel assured me, kissing my belly.

“B-but, the baby,” I stuttered at him, worried, trying to close my legs but he held my knees apart. "Isn't it too close now?"

“Relax,” he coaxed me, “I won’t touch you like that if you don't want me to. A pregnant woman can have sex anytime if she is up to it. Besides, I simply want to taste you.”

“Taste me?” I giggled incredulously and he looked at me, dead in the eyes, serious, before crawling back over me. My pounding heart was fit to burst from my chest and surely he could hear it. I certainly could.

“I haven’t shown you all the ways of pleasure, have I?” he asked me, supporting his body on his forearms on either side of me, his fingers stroking my face while I reached out to stroke his jaw. 

“I-I don’t know,” I breathed, distracted by his enviously long lashes. He smiled at me, playfully.

“What I am going to show you now is one of the many ways,” he promised me, “You will learn soon that not all forms of making love require a man to be inside a woman.”

I blushed at his words; “Don’t talk like that. It makes me blush.”

“I talk like that to make you blush, my sweet, gorgeous wife,” he said. He seemed to always be calling me his wife, with some form of endearment. I didn’t understand why he never called me by my actual name. The concept of having a wife, to him, was groundbreaking. 

“Do you know all the ways?” I asked him hesitantly and he thought about it.

“I don’t think so,” he admitted, “But what I do know, I would like to do with you.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked him curiously, already knowing the answer. I didn’t mind that there were other women before me. It would be stupid of me to be jealous. If he loved me now, and only me, I didn’t mind knowing about the other women. In fact, I wanted to know about them. I wanted to know that there was at least someone to comfort him through difficult times.

“War makes lonely beasts out of us,” his eyes glazing over, his brows furrowing as he studied my face. I could see faint lines of distress appear on his face. Sometimes in the night, he would wake up, drenched in sweat and murmuring in another language, sometimes in French and other times in some language I didn't recognize. At first, it frightened me but then after, when I held him, he would calm down. I don't think he ever realized this. I never told him but it felt wrong to keep this from him. Eventually, I would have to confront him about it. 

“I want to try everything with you,” I told him honestly, choosing to approach that topic at a later time. “I--But please be gentle with me...I-I don’t want it to be painful.”

“I will only ever be gentle with you,” he promised me, his eyes flaring with blue fire, “And when I put you over my knee, it won’t be for a spanking.”

My heart stuttered. He had once threatened to do that. It was so long ago but sometimes, I think about it because he had assured me, afterward, that he wasn’t going to hit me. But now, I was sure he won’t spank me, what did he mean?

“What do you mean?” I asked him curiously, blushing. “Will it hurt?”

“No, but it will make you burn,” he promised me, leaning forward and kissing me. I could feel him press his hips against mine, I could feel his hardness against me and I felt the familiar spike of almost painful heat burn inside me. It only seemed to happen when he was with me.

“What is it?” I asked him again and he grinned wolfishly at me.

“Pray you never find out,” he said, kissing me, effectively silencing me and when he kissed me down there while holding my knees apart, I couldn’t think of anything else.

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elisabet finally arrives to her new home country and therein new developments unfold.

When I woke up, the ship had reached port. It had been a long 3 weeks on the ship. I had woken up to the loud blare of the ship sounding and Glorfindel kissing my ear, murmuring that it was time for me to wake up. As usual, he helped me sit up and put my stockings and shoes on. I was ridiculously immobile with my pregnancy.

I tried to imagine myself still working at that stage and one time, the thought made me burst into inconsolable tears in front of Glorfindel, embarrassingly enough. He had been alarmed to say the least.

“What is it?” he asked me patiently, tucking away his stethoscope and helped me over my belly, bringing me down from his makeshift examination table that he made of the cruise bed.

“Nothing,” I squeaked, betraying myself by crying harder. “I-I-I’m not sad, I’m j-just so...o-oh I don’t know.”

I was too ashamed to admit it and sometimes, those terrifying thoughts kept me awake at night. There were no services that aided illegal immigrants in Britain. At least none that I knew of or none that were easily accessible. I didn’t have any skills to commend me beyond arithmetic and sewing. If I had been kicked out of my job, I would have lost my deposit on the apartment. I would have been evicted to the unforgiving weather of Britain. I dreamt of my body, on my ratty, moldy mattress that had been flattened and hardened with age, in the middle of my poverty stricken neighborhood. No one was helping me. Who could when the people themselves were so close to starving themselves? My body was bony and the only semblance of flesh was my morbidly gravid belly. I dreamt of rats nibbling on the skin of my ankle, where it was all decaying. My face was so gaunt that I was unrecognizable. This couldn’t have been me. The image made me nervous about sleeping at night. Taking naps during the day was more merciful to me.

“Really?” he murmured. The thing about Glorfindel is that he never raised his voice with me. When he spoke to me, it was as if he spoke to only me. As if we were always in a room full of people and what he wanted to say, no matter how bland, is meant just for my ears and my ears alone. Even if we were literally the only people in the smallest room ever. It was something that I always made note of but never bothered to explore. 

“Yes?” I gave him a trembling smile, realizing how ridiculous I looked. I even phrased my answer as a question.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked me, cleaning his stethoscope and closing his kit. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll get over it,” I chuckled, wiping my tears that wouldn’t stop until it became messier to wipe my tears than to simply let them flow.

Glorfindel didn’t say anything. He simply hummed and rolled up his sleeves. “Do you want to take a nap now?”

I thought about it and glanced at the clock. There were still three hours left before lunch. Usually during this time, there was a woman who would sing, activities that take place, and artsy activities that take place. But the thought of attending that when I was already so down made me feel exhausted. 

“Sure,” I relented. “Are you gonna go? I think it would be nice for you to get out of here for a bit. I am no fun crying…”

“I’m not holding it against you,” Glorfindel countered smoothly. “I think I would like a nap as well.”

I looked at him dubiously. I have never known this man to willingly take a nap in the middle of the day. More often than not it was just to not make me feel alone and when I woke up, Glorfindel was usually working out in a non invasive way. He was either doing pull ups, sit ups, push ups, or something similar. Something that didn’t require him to use force that can wake me. I felt like a potato. “Sure you would, my love.”

He looked vaguely offended, “You underestimate my sleeping capabilities.”

“Please,” I told him, “Do activities that you enjoy. Don’t let me hold you back. I can sleep--”

“I enjoy being with you and I enjoy making love to you,” Glorfindel cut me off, kneeling in front of me and gently taking an ankle, sliding his hand smoothly under my skirt and pulling down the sleeve of one tight. He folded it neatly and put it to one side, massaging my ridiculously swollen foot. 

“Oh,” I moaned, resisting the urge to pull my foot back because that felt good. But I hated my feet being touched. But it felt good. I was torn.

“Shhh,” Glorfindel murmured, still massaging one foot and removing the other tight. 

“Don’t isolate yourself from others because of me,” I sighed, watching him, stroking his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his leaf-shaped ear. “I can’t help the way I am. I can’t socialize as easily as you can. I would be able to do it, usually, just not today.”

“But you try for me,” Glorfindel cut me off, “So call it even.”

We didn’t do anything, but I remember him climbing into bed behind me, helping take off my dress, unbuttoning my front from behind while I stared dolefully at my hands. I desperately wished that I could be happier for him. I know he worried a lot for me. Soon I was left in my shift underneath. He helped me settle on top of him, lying down. 

“What is bothering you?” He murmured. “Don’t be embarrassed. There is nothing that you can say that can make me love you less.”

Well if he was so sure. So I told him. I expressed my silly fears. All the possibilities that could have happened if I hadn’t run into him that night. He simply stayed silent through it and listened. He listened to my dreams, my fears, and everything else in between without interrupting me once. After I was done, I had stopped crying and the tears had simply dried on my face. It felt good to talk. I felt lighter. He could get me to talk with just the right words at the right moment. In his arms was my most vulnerable moment and I think he realized that quickly.

“I am not sure how to dispel such fears,” Glorfindel finally admitted. “But what I can tell you is that you will always have my love and protection. You will live in luxury, always. In the worst circumstances, we will always be together, so you will never be alone.”

I nodded. It helped to hear those words. So that was the end of my tears on this cruise. 

I wasn't sure how I could have survived working at a factory with no support system--or work at all. Most of the times, I could barely look at my feet, and my fingers have become so swollen, that they now fit the ring that had previously not fit. Once I tried to bend down and I crumpled to the ground. For the next three hours, I lay there, unable to get up until Glorfindel had found me. I was that weak. I was always so easily exhausted. I would fall asleep at random times, in random places (I once fell asleep on the kitchen table) and wake up at even more random times (middle of the day, or night, whichever). When I did the laundry (something that confused Glorfindel, seeing as he was clueless about it), whatever fell to the ground would stay on the ground until Glorfindel came and picked it up for me. It really was helpful to hear such therapeutic words because then I didn’t have to compare my living circumstances to my previous living circumstances. I had an assurance and despite the fact that the future was unpredictable, I still took comfort in such words.

“Welcome to Valinor, the Province of Valmar,” Glorfindel told me and I gave him a sleepy smile, present day on this ship, thinking back to his words and studying his beautiful eyes. Last night was the best night of my life. In celebration of our close arrival, he had ordered for me a chocolate cake, which I had fawned over because it was so nicely decorated. Then, after feeding it to each other, we made love and spoke to each other after. It was such a nice night because once, we actually stayed to listen to our night’s singers and enjoyed chatting with our neighbors.

“We have a procession awaiting us,” he murmured apologetically, and I stared at him. He was a prince, what did I expect? When we came down for lunches and dinners, everyone seemed to know him and be reverent of him. They would seem extremely surprised when I was introduced as his wife. No one was aware that he was married. 

“Really?” I asked nervously, gripping the underside of my belly trying to lift some of the weight off my back. The stretch marks on my stomach were hideous and I rubbed cream on them daily. Sometimes, Glorfindel took the liberty to rub the cream on me himself.

“Can you handle a large crowd?” he asked me intently, watching me for any hints of uncertainty on my face. 

I nodded my head. As a part of his title, large processions were a staple. I couldn't be selective of what I wanted from Glorfindel. He was not as perfect as any romance novel may be; but to me, he was the closest thing to perfection. His duty to his country was his honor--no war medallion could ever compensate as a duty to his people. It can be a representation of his country...but duty comes first and a small part of that is public appearances, even if he was fourth in line to the throne. He was possibly the most popular Valinorian prince because he was one of the only Princes who participated in the war. I read about his deeds, recently, in the paper, when I was practicing my English. I didn’t understand much, but I understood that he toured Europe, with each country, earning himself a higher ranking until finally, he became Lieutenant General, sporting several Valor Extraordinary medals. I still kept the paper with me to this day. Any newspaper clippings of him that I could find, I kept, cutting them out and pasting them neatly in a scrapbook that I kept and compiled. Anything that I like that served as decoration or aesthetic, I artfully included in my scrapbook. It wasted my time when there was nothing else to do and when knitting baby blankets and sweaters, and reading English became dull and redundant.

A lot could happen in just a few weeks. I already felt as though I had been married to him for years, despite not even having a ceremony. I had gotten used to a routine where my husband, in some form or the other, would make love to me, and then speak with me about his job, or the things that he was allowed to speak about. I learn so much from him just by having those talks after a long evening of being together, as one. I often tried to speak about myself as much as possible. But what was there to speak about? In my mind I was quite pitiful. I often questioned what Glorfindel saw in me. He was honestly a saint to have not noticed my alarmingly long list of shortcomings. Yet he alway made me feel loved. I never felt forced to be anything around him. I always felt safe to speak my thoughts, voice my weaknesses and insecurities, and express my embarrassing lack of independence and the insane need for someone reliable to be with. How could a man like that exist? Romance novels never boasted of someone like that. Glorfindel was blessed with gorgeous genetic attributes, he was blessed with intelligence and a personality that no one could begrudge. He didn’t have many faults. And he made me feel as though he viewed me the same way I viewed him. Such mutuality sent me over the moon. Sometimes, it felt more like a courtship than it did a marriage. 

“Carefully now,” he murmured, keeping a hand on my back to support me on the ramp. He had warned me that before the crowd, he wouldn't be allowed to touch me too much publically, I didn’t mind. “I’ll catch you if you fall,” he said jokingly and I grinned up at him.

“Pray that won’t happen,” I giggled nervously. “It would be a terrible first impression won’t it?”

I inclined my head towards the cameras that were screening us at the side, I shyly waved at one of them and the crowd seemed to go wild. I looked at Glorfindel, slightly nervous. This wasn’t so bad...as long as no one approached me from the crowd. I would have a break-down. We stood for a few moments, briefly, letting the crowd soak us both in. They had to get used to me, I was going to be a Sovereign Princess after an official ceremony. 

“Hello, Penlod,” Glorfindel murmured beside me and I saw a tall man, not quite as tall as Glorfindel, with a coloring that was similar to Ecthelion’s. “It is good to see you again.”

“How long has it been? Five years?” the man said and Glorfindel grinned at him, shaking hands with the man. The man then turned to me and gave a short bow; “Princess.”

“Hello,” I murmured, holding out my hand. He briefly took it, bending down and pressing his lips to the back of my hand (barely touching my skin). I was technically not supposed to greet him without gloves but I suppose an exception could be made just this once. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, it would be a pleasure to collaborate with you and Prince Glorfindel, Princess,” he told me, his face holding no warmth, stoic, just as he greeted Glorfindel. I figured that just must be his normal face.

“Come now,” Glorfindel murmured, leading me towards a sleek, black Bentley with a single tap of his hand on my back. 

Getting into the car was a hassle. My belly didn’t allow me to be elegant about it, I think. I felt clumsy when I ducked into the car and my knees almost gave out. I was wobbling. But thankfully, I had gripped the car door tightly enough to support myself. That alone was enough to keep me up long enough to seat my bum on the car seat in the back. Glorfindel closed the door behind me and walked the other side where Penlod kept the door open for him. Once he got in, he closed the blinds on the windows and immediately, his hand went to my belly, stroking it. The baby inside me jolted painfully, delivering a powerful kick to my ribs that made me cry out.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically, stroking my belly soothingly and eventually, the stirring of my baby relented. 

“Oh, it was just sudden, is all,” I breathed, feeling my heart pounding in terror. That kick was enough to make me think that my contractions had come. I had read many columns in women’s information magazines about the general nature of birth. None of them were helpful, but I still read them greedily. As though they were more knowledgeable or more open than my own husband, who fretted over me extensively. 

“Are you alright, Princess?” Penlod had gotten in the front and had begun driving, he was watching me carefully in there rear-view mirror. I gave him an assuring smile, touched that he would ask about me.

“Yes, yes thank you,” I said, “I’m sorry--are these seats leather?” I was terrified. What was I supposed to do? In my pain, I had forgotten that Glorfindel might know something about birthing women. Penlod looked faintly alarmed.

“Yes,” he said slowly, driving through the crowd. I could feel Glorfindel staring at me in concern. He wasn’t panicking like I was, which was great. That way, I am the only one who was losing her head.

“Good,” I giggled breathily, giving him an apologetic look. I felt another muscle pull inside me. It was faintly painful but I didn’t show it, it would pass. I had been getting a lot of these lately. I was due to give birth any moment now. In fact, I should have given birth a week ago so I was getting jumpy and nervous every time I feel something. I was not ready, even though I desperately wanted to hold my child. The paradox kept me awake at night sometimes, even when Glorfindel had fallen asleep. It was easy to forget because most of the time, he was simply just my husband who made love to me, treated me, and talked with me about everything and nothing. My doctor back in Germany didn’t do any of that (thank goodness). My experiences with doctors were often limited to cool, confrontational interactions that were invasive and unempathetic. Very unlike my husband, who most of the time while he was doctoring around me, did not even bother to remain professional around me. Rather, while he was inspecting me, he joked with me, kissed me, stroked me, and danced with me. When I needed to disrobe for whatever assessment he had planned that day, he would be considerate enough to cover me with one of his bathrobes, and he would always set me at ease by asking me about what I planned to do with my baby once I had her. He often exercises vetoing power on any of the names I had in mind, which was frustrating, even though I secretly loved having his input. 

The fact that I was not barren—with no other explanation—was a knee-weakening relief. My purpose in this world, the moment I found out about my pregnancy, was restored, even if my parents could not see that. I was now a proper woman, who had, in one of the most important ways, fulfilled her purpose. I just couldn’t wait to hold my child, watch their blue eyes open, their gorgeous blond hair fly like fuzz on their little head. I couldn’t imagine them looking like me. Why would they look like me when they can look like Glorfindel? He who was the ideal specimen of beauty in the rougher sex? But I would take them anyway I can. Already, I couldn’t imagine hating my child. My heart was fit to burst with love, even when my lungs did not thank my child for the pressure on them.

“I brought you strawberries,” Glorfindel offered me, holding out a little pink Tupperware container. It was small enough to fit in the coat of his jacket. I grinned at him, realizing that I was hungry--starving actually. Those little aches were simply me being hungry. I had woken up late and had missed breakfast on the ship. I shyly took it from him, opening the container. 

“Thank you,” I said gratefully, opening it and popping a little strawberry in my mouth. I grinned at him. “Delicious!”

While Penlod drove to the palace, I snacked lightly on the strawberries. I had opted to wear my best dress that I have been saving just for this day. It was a demure, rose dress, with tasteful folds and a smooth, elegant look. The dress reached my chins and my little kitten heels were the most comfortable ones I could find. My overcoat was a neat, brown-fur coat and my hat was delightfully styled. I wanted my hair to be perfect and before that, before even coming on the cruise, I researched several types of elegant hairstyles that I used as clippings in my scrapbook. I genuinely wanted to look good, for the people, for my husband, but most of all, for myself. I knew how to be fashionable. I may not have had the education of a Prince, but I lived the lifestyle of a Lady. 

The palace was a grand affair, and quite a ways out. It was surrounded by dense forests, similar to our castles in Germany. It was tall, the walls were stark white, the ground was laid with artfully colored bricks, the fields of the castle were beautifully and meticulously maintained. The castle itself was massive, and something out of a children’s fairytale. Colours of gold, rose, and honey-dew blue lined and decorated the palace, the marble of the castle having been cultured to fit the aesthetic and the doors were made of solid silver and the gates were ominously built, to ward off intruders. It was ancient and I hear tales of it having one of the most massive libraries with preserved ancient texts in the world, compiled during the Diaspora, the middle ages, and other important events in history. Most of the common knowledge of the world, and other important histories, were preserved by the exploring ancestors of Valinor; who were hungrier for knowledge rather than land. 

I was proud to be married into a country like this.

When Penlod stopped the car in front of the imperial gates, my heart stopped. The moment was inevitable. Soon, I would meet my new family. Already, I know that I was not in good favor because of my rushed marriage to Glorfindel, despite his assurances otherwise... Maybe I should have waited...but no, that would be terrible. I was already pregnant. It would have been worse if I had married him after I had given birth. I just didn’t know how to act. They were royalty and I was acutely aware of my many shortcomings. I was just so lost and clueless. I was not a gorgeous actress, or someone noteworthy. I was simply a woman who happened to have housed Glorfindel for nearly a year of her life, in her house. He also happened to be a man who loved me on first sight, even when I didn’t know it. It was so easy to love him back. He was just so kind to me--he was the husband that any woman dreamt of having. His flaws only endeared me to him. 

“Come,” he murmured, climbing out of the car. I was still winded from my little snack. Eating took a surprising amount of lung effort from me. When the door opened beside me, I could see Glorfindel bending slightly too look at me beneath the low hood. 

“I don’t know if I will be able to get out,” I told him jokingly, maneuvering myself so that I was raising myself up on trembling knees from the back seat. Why was it so hard to get up? I usually wasn’t so inflexible, even now. It must be that I was tired even though I woke up a few hours previously.

“There you go,” Glorfindel murmured, a chaste hand on the small of my back that did wonders to balance me. I gave him a grateful smile and gripped his pro-offered elbow. I glanced behind me and saw a few men with cameras standing at the gate. I gave one shy wave and resumed walking with Glorfindel.

*

We were greeted by the whole family, I think. There had to be at least 20 people, neatly arranged, all with either black or blond hair. All of them are incredibly tall, none below six feet. The women were statuesque and formed, the men tall and well-built. I see now where Glorfindel got his everything. I was so nervous, I thought I would pass out. My face felt hot and I felt incredibly embarrassed. 

“Pleased to meet you,” It had to be the mother Princess. I have seen photographs of her and the king all over the shop streets and the shop walls. It was passing but I still saw it. She was a tall woman, almost equal in height to her husband, and her slimness was proportionate to her height. Her hair was long, even unfashionably for a woman of her age. It was loose down to her knees in golden-white strands and her eyes were striking blue. So this is where Glorfindel got his coloring from. “You must be Elisabet Wolfgang.”

“Now Laurefindel,” Glorfindel said smoothly and Princess Asura smiled benignly. 

“Now Laurefindel,” she affirmed, smiling at her so and then at me, leaning down and kissing me. I was so incredibly short compared to all of them. Usually tall people were outliers in their families. But no, this entire family; Glorfindel, his parents, Lord Ecthelion, Lord Elrond, Penlod, and all of them...tall. My eyes went to her ears; with pointed ears as well.

“Thank you for accepting me,” I told her, trying not to sound meek, but instead elegant and confident. But how could I when I was so short? 

“We understand,” The High Prince Godwin stepped forward and held out his hand. I took it, trying not to hesitate and he patted it with his other hand. They were open; royals of other parts of the world were not touchy. “Our country is more tolerant than our British or Swedish counterparts.”

“Yes,” I said breathily, “Glorfindel said that would be the case.”

“Come,” the High Princess said, “Meet the family. We are large, so please do not feel worried if you do not remember our names all at once.”

“Thank you for your consideration,” I felt a weight come off my shoulder. They were so kind and welcoming and nothing like what I expected. I thought they would be cold and distant, aloof even. Glorfindel was right. I couldn’t detect any underlying falseness in their genuity.

So I was introduced, again, to Ecthelion, Elrond, and Penlod. And then their families. I was introduced to their families. Ecthelion had a sister named Elanor and their parents were currently outside the country. Elrond had a wife named Celebrian and two sons currently, who were twins in their early teens. Celebrian was a gorgeous, silver-haired young woman who had a bright smile and a warm welcome with her. Glorfindel’s brother was tall and similar in looks to Glorfindel, save for a few variances in their features, with Glorfindel being the oldest. He was aloof though, unwelcoming, but Glorfindel had warned be this would happen. That his brother, Glorfineau was like that, and always will be. In fact, the two brothers were never truly close. So many other faces passed… eventually we were all led to a simple brunch

I didn’t have to speak at all I found. Everyone did it for me, introducing themselves. I was greeted much more warmly than I anticipated. There were no hugs, or kisses, or touching, but the smiles, and the warmth they held, shook me to my core. I’ve never seen so many people in my whole life openly smiling at me, and with so much acceptance too. Sure there were some stone-faced individuals but that didn’t matter to me because when Elanor sat next to me and chatted with me, I forgot all about those individuals. When Glorfindel’s parents sat with me and spoke about Glorfindel’s rather adventurous childhood, I forgot all my worries and enjoyed myself. They were all kind enough to sit with me when I did because I literally could not keep standing. I desperately wished to kick my heels away and walk away barefoot but I didn’t want to risk the mood so I chose to keep them on. 

Afterwards, Princess Asura insisted that we accommodate ourselves in the castle for my days remaining until my birth. I was already a week late, and my position was precarious. I was incredibly nervous but Glorfindel was not too worried. But he did insist since I was so late in my pregnancy, that I stay off my feet as much as possible. 

“Glorfindel,” Prince Godwin murmured finally, when it was just us and a few intimates of Glorfindel, including Lord Ecthelion and Prince Glorfineau. “We must speak urgently afterwards.”

I perked up; was everything ok?

“Very well then,” Glorfindel agreed, rising to his feet and bowing. “Allow me to get Elisabet to her accommodations.”

“Ecthelion, love,” Princess Asura demurred politely, “Forgive me for this bold request, can you accompany Elisabet to her accommodations?”

Lord Ecthelion looked startled, just how I felt. He glanced at Glorfindel, who looked vaguely put out, as though he was going to relent, but not willingly. 

“Of course, auntie,” he murmured, rising to his feet and coming to stand next to me. Glorfindel came to my other side and helped me to my feet. 

“You do know where, right?” Glorfindel asked him.

“I’ll put her in your old bedroom, that should be fine,” Ecthelion told him, clapping him on the shoulder and holding out his arm.

“Come, Glorfindel,” Prince Godwin cut in before Glorfindel could protest. Glorfindel nodded stiffly and I took Ecthelion’s arm, giving Glorfindel a brief smile before I was walked away by Ecthelion.

Ecthelion was silent the entire walk and during that time, I thought about what the Prince and Princess have wanted from their son that he couldn’t have walked me himself. Was it about me? Was it about some overdue matters that he had to attend to? The possibilities were endless but the cause could only have narrowed down to me. I just hoped it was not as bad. 

When we came to the stairs I paused nervously.

“Wait,” I told Ecthelion, who stopped abruptly. “I need to take off my shoes--I can’t walk like this--how many flights of stairs?”

I looked at him as I sat on an ornamental chair near the stairs, trying to lean forward to unbuckle my shoes. If I was on a sofa, I would have bent my knee and twisted my leg next to my hip to put on my shoes but alas I was not.

“Three flights,” Ecthelion said, “Do you need help?”

“Goodness, please,” I breathed out, sticking out my legs helpfully. Ecthelion bent and made deft work of unclasping the belt of my heel and then took off my shoes, before handing them to me.

“You have blisters,” he noted. “Do you need medicine?”

“I’m sure I have an ointment lying around somewhere,” I lied. I was already feeling uncomfortable with being escorted by any man other than Glorfindel. In truth, I know Glorfindel wouldn’t have let me climb more than 12 steps before he took matters to his own hands and one flight of stairs had nearly twenty steps.

60 stairs to go.

So I began walking at an excruciatingly slow pace. I felt incredibly heavy. My lower back was incredibly sore and my feet felt as though they were on fire. I could feel Ecthelion next to me, watching me as I struggled but I couldn’t look up too often. It made me dizzy. I looked at Ecthelion and smiled tiredly.

“Being pregnant is a whole world of its own,” I said breathlessly, feeling myself lean forward involuntarily and Ecthelion’s face flashed with alarm as he flew towards me and lifted me from the ground in his arms.

“Let’s carry you the rest of the way, shall we,” he offered me diplomatically, sounding faintly alarmed, “I don’t need your husband to bite my head off for letting you fall.”

“There is no need,” I admonished, incredibly embarrassed. I didn’t want to be put in this situation. Ecthelion was a close friend of Glorfindel but it was not proper and the impropriety of it humiliated me.

“I can’t risk it,” Ecthelion said gravely, “I still need to have Ecthelion Junior before your husband offs me.”

I couldn’t help it, I chuckled.

“Thank you anyways,” I told him. “I don’t think I could have climbed those stairs alone.”

“We have lifts being installed in the common area,” Ecthelion told me, “Here, just to modernize.”

“Really?” I asked him, trying to avoid looking around so I don’t imbalance poor Ecthelion. “Oh, that would be nice. I can’t imagine climbing these stairs five times a day in this state.”

“It can get exhausting,” he said understandingly, in a tone that suggested he could not understand it. I smiled indulgently and finally, when he reached the end of the third flight, he set me down and walked in front of me to a room in the far end of the east wing.

“Here you have it,” Ecthelion opened the doors for me. “Glorfindel might be a little late so don’t wait up.”

“Thank you so much for carrying me, Lord Ecthelion,” I told him politely.

“Loose the Lord,” Ecthelion said offhandedly, “I’m going to be the godfather to your boy.”

“Boy?” I asked him dubiously. “You are betting on a boy?”

“A bouncing baby boy,” he agreed seriously. “Don’t dissapoint.”

“I think it will be a girl,” I told him, “Do I get a share if I turn out to be right?”

“Discuss it with Elrond, he is the only one who bet on a girl so far,” Ecthelion said seriously.

“Fine,” I told him, waving at him. “Good night then.”

“Sleep tight and make sure you check those sores,” he gestured to my feet and I blushed, embarrassed.

“Yea,” I said uncomfortably, stepping into the room and waving goodbye as Ecthelion walked away. 

Glorfindel’s room was a...neat affair. Creams, browns, greens, and blues. The bed was large enough to fit one person and maybe a child. Will I fit? Will we fit? There was a desk and there were electric lamps installed on the walls, with a light switch on the wall about the bed. I began taking off my dress, noting that my trunks have been neatly set aside and that there was pajamas laid out for us on the bed, mine next to Glorfindel’s. I put on my night gown and night robe after I took off my dress and neatly folded it aside on the chair, I would figure out where to put it tomorrow.

I climbed on to the bed and I didn’t even have time to close the lightswitch before falling asleep. 

I didn’t wake up again until six o’clock in the morning. I was surprised at having missed dinner and I found that Glorfindel was lying next to me, hugging me incredibly tightly so that we were squished in the bed together, and one hard thigh was wedged between my own thighs. But it felt nice so I closed my eyes again, to chase away my remaining sleepiness. Then my eyes flew open. I needed to pee. 

“Glorfindel,” I poked him guiltily, unsure at what time he went to sleep but needing to wake him anyways. “Let go of me, love. I need to pee.”

One eyelid cracked open, revealing a stark silver gaze in the soft morning light. “Hmm..” he slowly let go of me, briefly stroking my belly. “Need help?”

“No,” I shook my head, feeling energetic. I must have slept for 14 hours. Usually, after long sleeps, I wake up feeling groggy with a pounding migraine. But that was not the case today.

“The ensuite is to your left,” he murmured, giving me a boost from my back to get up properly before settling back to sleep. I heeded his command and waddled to the washroom as quickly as I was able. I quickly performed my business and gave myself a quick face wash. I suppose this should do for now. I looked well enough for having just woken up. I suppose a quick comb through my hair couldn’t hurt. I looked at the counters of the washroom and found that all my toiletries had already been laid out. It made me uncomfortable that someone already went through my things before I even knew it. I assumed that the people who worked in the palace took diligent care of such matters and intercepted my baggage while I was socializing with the royal family. Regardless, I pushed aside my discomfort. I would address this issue later, if it got out of hand, because I was still appreciative. I combed my hair and brushed my teeth, faintly grinning at how bright my skin looked. I looked good, despite my distended stomach. Must be one of those days. I kept getting them more frequently, but twice as often, I would get the days where I was getting negative emotions. 

When I got back, Glorfindel was already getting up, tying his hair up in a low tail. I came and sat next to him. “Did you sleep well? Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, “I needed to get up anyways.”

“The people who work here put our stuff away,” I treaded lightly on the matter. 

“They usually do that,” Glorfindel nodded, yawning, “I suppose I should have warned you about that.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, “But I am not mad. Just taken back by that. Never had that happen to me before.”

“A lot of firsts,” he sighed and I frowned. He seemed down today. Maybe he was having one of those days...the ones that I frequently get. I felt my heart pound. I wasn’t used to Glorfindel being ‘down’. I was used to him being serious and stern, or tender and charismatic. I am sure he had those days before but he hid it well from me. But he couldn’t hide it from me this morning. Perhaps I got enough of those days to begin recognizing them properly in other people. I had an idea of what it maybe about.

“What was all that about last night?” I asked him carefully, tucking away a wayward strand falling in his vision, kissing his ears and his jaw there. I could see his fingers falter at his buttons. So there was a start there. He glanced at me and smiled assuringly. 

“I delayed my return to Valinor. I had some overdue visits to compensate for. But my parents agreed to wait until you have given birth before we can make those appearances.”

“I can do them now,” I offered, already knowing in my heart that I couldn't but I felt the need to be less of a vegetable and more active in such matters.

“It all can wait,” he assured me and gently cupped the back of my neck, bringing me forward for a kiss. “Right now, I need to look to your feet.”

I blushed, “Did Ecthelion tell you?”

“Yes,” he told me, bringing one foot up and inspecting it. “I meant to look at it last night but I forgot.”

“Do you have some cream?” Now that it was in my attention, I could feel it.

“Yea,” he murmured, getting up and taking off his nightshirt. “Give me a second, you are going to get breakfast in bed at seven thirty.”

“Breakfast in bed?” I echoed incredulously and then paused. My mother usually had breakfast in bed when we had servants. “I suppose. Will you stay with me?”

“I have to eat breakfast downstairs with the men, unfortunately,” Glorfindel told me, taking a small tube and squeezed out some cream, kneeling down and gently applying it over my sores. “Keep off of your feet for the better part of an hour. You should be fine. Don’t wear heels. No one will care if you go barefoot, you are pregnant.”

“Alright,” I nodded. “You need a shave,” I noted.

“Better get on with it then,” he yawned, rising up and giving me a kiss, on my forehead, my nose, and finally my lips.

“I can do it for you,” I offered, getting up, stepping into my slippers so that the cream didn’t make me slip. “You can sleep soundly and relax.”

He glanced at me dubiously; “Do you know how to shave?”

“I did it for my brothers,” I admitted, thinking of the times that my brothers were studying for their exams, and couldn’t be bothered to focus on something so trivial but essential, so they let me shave their faces in place of my mother. The memories of those times made me nostalgic. How were they now? “Can’t be too hard with you...at least you won’t be holding a book and bossing me around.”

His lips quirked gratefully and he relented, grabbing a wooden chair next to his door and lifting it to his ensuite. “All the shaving supplies you need will be here.”

“I won’t nick you,” I promised, “Much…”

“They’ll think I live with a feline,” he warned me playfully, already in a better mood. 

“That feline is pregnant,” I shot at him, “She can barely look at her toes, what makes you think she’ll willingly nick you?”

“Pregnant women have pent up frustrations,” Glorfindel said gravely, sitting down with suspicious vulnerability in front of someone holding a blade against him. I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to kiss him anyways. “Usually caused by not being able to look at their toes and unwillingness to hurt their frustrating partners.”

“I am a lady,” I told him playfully, “And ladies are always peaceful—uh-uh—I won’t hear your silly contradictions. I’ll get the water ready then,” I hummed happily, and then paused...they had running water here, of course, how silly. 

So we got to the process of shaving poor Glorfindel, who was still the whole time. In fact, he even closed his eyes. I didn’t even speak but I won’t lie and say that more than once, I was distracted by the stillness of him. And him in general. He was just so beautiful.

“Is everything ok?” I asked him, once I was done shaving, and getting to the aftershave bit. “I don’t want to hurt you by applying aftershave. Will I hurt you?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I like it when it burns because then I know it is working.”

Ok then...aftershave it is. After applying that bit and quickly washing my hands, I patted his face with a warm towel and pressed my lips against his newly shaved skin, appreciating the smoothness.

“Hmmm,” he hummed lazily, leaning his head back and letting me sniff at him like a cat. “Admiring your job?”

“A job well-done,” I retorted, peppering kisses to his jaw. 

“It’s too early to be this aggressive, you little minx,” he hummed, holding me close enough that I had to climb sideways on his lap, he kissed me deep. I could feel his desire and I laughed. 

“You should come back to bed,” I murmured. “We have 40 minutes.”

“I am too irresistible to be that quick,” he murmured and I pouted, pulling away.

“Paraphrase then,” I snapped and before I could blink, I was lifted in the air like a doll and seconds later, I was surrounded by sheets.

*

The entire day I spent honest to goodness just with the Princess and her handmaidens. And that was how it was for the next few days leading to my birth. I was surprised by that. The Princess willingly sought out my presence and she was so gentle and kind. We simply spoke and sat together, even knit together and I was shown her extensive collection of baby photos of her sons, which were her most prized possession. 

I was absolutely boggle and mazes at Glorfindel’s old baby photos. He was a grim child. He didn’t smile often and when I asked Princess Asura about it she smiled fondly. 

“He was always such a serious child,” she sighed dreamily, “When he is thinking hard about something, his eyebrows would knot together, as if all the troubles of the world were his to worry about.”

“He is not early like that now,” I murmured, “He is very straightforward, I suppose.”

“In what way?” Princess Asura was interested now.

“He worries,” I grinned at the thought of his knotted eyebrows because he still did that. “But is good with dealing with his worries so he doesn’t need to dwell on them for too long…”

“He worried about you for quiet a while,” Princess Asura informed me in a reminiscing tone and I looked up, surprised that I would come up in a conversation about Glorfindel.

“Really?” I asked her shyly, no doubt interested.

“Yes, after he was given leave for home...he wasn’t able to get restationed there and you know the army...there is always someone ranking above you…” she spoke slowly, as though she was trying to remember it in enough detail to sate me, which was something I appreciated dearly. 

“The first day back from his tour, he slept for nearly three days, with short breaks in between. He was so tired,” Princess Asura said, swirling her teacup. “I was worried and excited to know about his mystery woman that he spoke about in his letters.”

“He spoke about me?” I was embarrassed. 

“The moment he was first stationed in Cologne,” she affirmed, “He described a husband and wife at first and then slowly, it evolved from there.”

I blushed, embarrassed at the not-so-subtle mention of Jan. I never heard what became of him and I was never interested to find out. But I felt like I owed the princess and explanation.

“I-well...my first marriage was not so nice,” I admitted when I plucked up the courage to speak because Princess Asura seemed to have paused lengthily just for that purpose. “Jan...the man I was married to previously. He was an influential man. An integral member to the Nazi party.” 

I was distressed and embarrassed to speak of this but it felt wrong to hide it. “But he was so cruel,” I felt my surroundings blur out. How long has it been since I remembered his purple face, the way he would whip me with a belt...how invasive and horrible it felt to have him hurt me both physically and sexually. “He would always beat me and hurt me and...well. It was because I wasn’t able to conceive from him. He would hurt me because of that—at least I think he did. The reports that came into Glorfindel’s office to address the troubles of the townspeople told me that...it seemed like the whole town knew except for me.”

Princess Asura regarded me intently, silently. Did she want to know how Glorfindel managed to love me? I couldn’t find the answer either. “But Glorfindel...he knew all along but because of Jan’s power and influence, there was only so much he could do. Eventually Glorfindel managed to build a hefty case against him and that was the last I ever saw of Jan.”

“If you are wondering how he fell in love with me…” I trailed off, blinking back tears, smiling pitifully. “I am still not sure. It was so outlandish that someone like him would even consider me and that was before I even knew of his honorifics. He was just so intelligent, athletic, handsome...not to mention, I was never holding ‘the prettiest’ title around in the village.”

I tried to make light out of it but the Princess remained unamused. She seemed content to let me talk and I felt pressed to reveal all my secret thoughts and feelings. Because I was seeking her approval so desperately, so as to not cause a rift between us all that could sour my marriage. 

“But he later revealed that he loved me all along,” I admitted, smiling to myself, all my distress fading away. “After Jan was incarcerated, Glorfindel began his little ‘courtship’ I suppose you could call it,” I blushed at the term ‘courtship’. “Glorfindel courted me in an unconventional manner and he was so caring and he protected me so fiercely because without him, I was literally a poached egg,” I giggled at the term that I heard Ecthelion and Elrond use in passing when they were reminiscing with Glorfindel.

“And this courting led to the miracle that sits between us, yes,” Princess Asura hummed knowingly and I almost melted with mortification. I suppose I walked into that one. 

“I didn't know I could conceive,” I told her as honestly and transparently as I could. “Jan tried so many times and each time was so painful...and he had mistresses but they all had children of dubious origin. Everyone sort of assumed that the fault was mine… that I never thought to consider it was Jan’s fault. So we never took proper precautions because… why should we? No use.” I sounded like a harlot the more I spoke but when Ipeeked an embarrassed glance at Glorfindel, there was nothing that could have been remotely incriminating on the Princess’s beautiful face. She only had empathy on her face.

“And then he had to leave and...well I thought that was the end,” I admitted faintly. “He gave me a promise ring yes, but he was travelling worlds away from me...there was no guarantee that he would want to come back when he had a duty. But I had to leave my country anyways because my parents noticed my condition before I did and cast me out...it was by pure coincidence that we actually found each other,” I laughed incredulously, tears pricking my eyes at the relief. It felt good to talk about it, I suppose. It felt really good. “By then I was so pregnant it was a wonder I was still working.”

I shifted my weight on the couch, suddenly conscious of my posture. I just wanted to lay down flat on my back without being squished down by my belly.

“It must have been hard,” Asura told me, patting my hand consolingly. “Your plight hurts me, I cannot begin to imagine enduring such hardships and for that, you have my respect.’

“Thank you,” I murmured, blushing. “I suppose he worried because of that too…”

“I think so as well,” princess Asura smiled at me, “He learned to perfect his worry over the years so that it is nearly undetectable. But I know my son. He spent more time away from me but I could always read him so well.”

I hesitated, what I wanted to address was a very sensitive issue. It was an issue that I worried about without rest despite Glorfindel’s assurances. I wanted to address this issue in particular because I wanted there to be transparency with my new in-laws. I needed there to be transparency so that if there was any hidden animosity, I would know to work with it.

“I know I am not the most ideal choice for a bride for such an important man,” I finally said. “I know it is made even more unconventional by the nature of our marriage and the circumstances of us meeting each other. I just need you to know that had these factors been different, we would have done things the proper way, and respected your honorifics and traditions.”

I just needed to say that and then some more; “I understand that despite what assurances are given to me, no matter how well-intentioned, I won’t always be accepted and I cannot change that. I already heaved such unexpected news by simply existing. But I want you to know that I will always be devoted to your son and my loyalty will be unequivocally tied to my new country; Valinor.”

There, I said it. The Princess smiled at me, something shining in her eyes. “I suppose that is a reasonable way of thinking. But anyhow, it gladdens me to hear this. I sense no guile nor deceit from you and for that I am thankful. It pleases me that Glorfindel has found love in his marriage” She practically cooed.

I could see no guile in her person either. I suppose it was nice to have the approval of at least one family member.

*

“Your family has been incredibly welcoming, Glorfindel,” I murmured, lying on my side one night, studying his face in the dim lamp light as he switched through the pages of his medical literature about contemporary surgeries relating to the patellar ligaments and patellar damage. One of the most complex structures in the human body.

“Have they?” he wrinkled his nose, pushing his glasses back up and I felt my heart drop to my stomach...ooh he didn’t even need to try and I would be swooning for him. I raised myself on my arms and kissed him on the lips, taking his book and reading over to set it on the nightstand on his side. “That is good.”

He pulled back and grinned at me wolfishly, his dimples making my heart melt and my thighs tremble. “Are you tired?” I asked him nervously, wide awake and incredibly alert myself.

“Not enough to stop me from loving you,” he murmured, pulling me over him.

*~*~*

I was in pain...so much pain. I could barely breathe. I was laying on my back, the weight of my front literally pushing me into the alarmingly soft mattress. I was toasting under the cover and my body was bare and wet. It couldn’t have been from the shower I had taken before sleeping. I made sure that I was dry. I think Glorfindel must have heard my whimpers of distress because a moment later, the lamp light flickered on and there he was, kneeling above me, stroking my face, one hand supporting me beneath my back and lifting me. Why was everything so wet around me? When I made to glance down, I couldn’t see past my belly, but I could see one half of Glorfindel’s pant leg was wet. 

“Your water broke,” he murmured, frowning. He seemed eerily calm. 

“I--I don’t want you to leave me,” I whimpered when he moved around me, still gripping my arm to keep me from collapsing on my back. 

“I won’t leave you,” he assured me, “I will be the one delivering our child, remember?”

Simple as that, no wonder he was so calm. I was so terrified that I completely forgot everything we had previously and maybe, seemingly, even fleetingly discussed. I kept forgetting that he studied medicine, and practiced it, while we were in London, and even now, he was a chairman of The Council of Doctors in Gondolin. He knew what he was doing and he couldn’t trust anyone else to do better than he could. We had discussed it extensively, while he was regularly checking up on me and running tests. I nodded, feeling a sob come out of my mouth when a spasm cracked through my body. Quickly, I was lifted off the bed and carried away. 

Why was it so convenient that my husband was both a prince and a doctor?


End file.
